After the Happy Ending
by Flight of Fancy
Summary: Bill is just a normal, average, maybe even boring guy, right? Not according to Angel and the Scoobies. COMPLETE!
1. Strangers

Disclaimer: I own nothing; I just like to toy with them.

Feedback: Pretty please? It makes me feel special.

Rating: PG-13, for language

Spoilers: A bunch for Not Fade Away.

Note: This takes place a year or so after the events of NFA. It is not, however, a story about NFA. It's about what happened way after. A crossover, of sorts, with _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_. There will be no resurrecting dead characters, from either _Buffy_ or _Angel_. Enjoy.

Bill leaned against the side of his cubicle, fighting the urge to scream. Another Wednesday, another pointless day of working for a company that he hated. He ran a hand through the riotous mass of curls that was his brownish-blonde hair and sighed. He peeked up over the top of the cubicle. His boss, Mr. Haddon, was nowhere in sight. Bill quickly began a game of Tetrus. The perfect way to waste time.

Lunch break came, and Bill stared blankly for a moment at the vending machine that had swallowed each and every one of his quarters and given him nothing in return. He punched in the number for a bag of Lays again. Nothing. "Argh!" Bill screamed as he began to shake, kick, and generally abuse the thieving vending machine.

"Hey Bill. What're ya doing?" Drew Jansen asked as he entered the break room.

"Raging against the machine," Bill replied, still shaking the machine, which continued to smugly deny him his greasy, salted snack food of choice.

"Did it eat your money again?" Drew was not the fastest rat in the maze.

"No Drew, it insulted my mother." Bill was, on the whole, irritated by Drew for obvious reasons. Drew also looked suspiciously like Shaggy from "Scooby Doo" and had the same basic thought processes as well. But the badly-trimmed brunette was also as close as Bill came to a friend in his sad life, and thus Drew had to be handled with a certain amount of delicacy.

"Hey, I got that Ghost of the Robot CD. Did I tell you one of the band members looks almost exactly like you?" asked Drew as he cheerfully sat down and munched on his pretzels.

"No Drew," Bill ground out, not particularly eager to hear this story again. "Why don't you tell me?"

"Well he does," Drew chattered, unaware of Bill's disdain. "Same weird cheekbones and everything."

"Yes, only a few of us in the world are blessed with exceptionally hollow cheekbones." Bill lowered his voice until only he could hear it. "You complete ponce." Bill was never quite sure why he used 'ponce' as an insult. It wasn't as if anyone in Rhode Island would have any knowledge of English slang. He wasn't even sure how he knew it. But it always seemed right, and the blonde didn't care enough to try and stop doing it. As always, he craved a cigarette.

"Me and Jennifer are hooking up later tonight," Bill mentioned through his turkey sandwich. "I think we might actually get to do it at her place." Bill grimaced. Jennifer had a high-pitched laugh and looked like she was badly in need of a sandwich. _At least he has a girlfriend_, Bill thought to himself. Then he thought about Italian food, for some reason.

On the drive home, Bill reflected on his life while listening to the Sex Pistols and singing along. He could become a singer and escaped his job as an office drone. He had a good voice, he could move to Hollywood, hang out with the stars, kick back and relax as the state of California fell off the continent.

Bill parked in front of his apartment and climbed the stairs to the second level, looking forward to a microwave dinner and watching _Office Space_ for the eighth time this month, which was the only way he could manage to get through the day. The man unlocked his door and threw his keys on the counter. He had his jacket halfway off before he turned around and realized that his living room was full of strangers.

"Holy Mother of God!" Bill shrieked as he staggered backwards against the door. There were four people, to be exact, and they seemed relaxed but alert.

"Oh my God, that's him," gasped a blonde woman who, like Jennifer, could've used a sandwich, something that wasn't from Subway. Her hair was done in a simple but lovely bun, and something about her unsettled the already very unsettled Bill.

"His hair is different though," commented a dark haired man with an eye patch, who had his feet propped up on Bill's coffee table. "Guess he hasn't discovered peroxide yet."

"Who the hell are you people?!" Bill screamed, hoping to attract the attention of his neighbors. He had locked his door on the way end, because this side of town, while not exactly the worst, was certainly not the best. Bill was incapable of opening doors without fumbling with the keys and he truly didn't want to turn his back on these people for any amount of time.

"You are..." an older British man in glasses squinted at a sheet of paper and a small corner of his mouth quirked up slightly, "William Bloody?"

"It's pronounced Bluh-day," Bill corrected automatically. "It's French or something." He shook his head, feeling like an idiot. What was he doing talking to the intruders in house like he knew them, or at least wasn't afraid of them? "Get the hell out of here, now!" He hoped he sounded manly and forceful, as opposed to terrified.

"Really can't," Eye patch spoke again, getting up from the couch. The others also rose and started moving towards Bill.

"Who are you?" he asked again, backing towards the bedroom, where he kept a handgun in his nightstand.

"You really don't remember us?" asked the kind looking woman with red hair and green eyes. "The magicks involved in that...yikes. And your accent's gone and everything."

"We're your friends," Skinny Blonde soothed, holding up her hands to show she was unarmed. _Like that's going to reassure me. I don't like most of my friends anyway_, Bill thought, still backing towards the door.

"I'm not," Eye patch chimed in. The red haired woman slapped him lightly on the arm and hissed, "Xander, you're not helping." These people were clearly insane. It was time to make his move.

Hoping to get the gun quickly, before the intruders had a chance to react, Bill whirled and raced towards the bedroom doorway. Only to run straight into what felt like a wall. _I could swear the door was open_, Bill thought woozily. He then looked up, trying to see what he'd hit. And discovered that there were in fact five strangers in his apartment.

The man he had run into leaned against the doorframe, looking down at Bill, alomst expressionless. He had dark hair that was gelled up and chocolate colored eyes. The stranger was dressed completely in black and he held up Bill's gun. "Going for this? I wouldn't."

Bill gulped. Something about this man was almost painfully familiar, and also highly unsettling. He got slowly to his feet. The people surrounded him on all sides and he leaned against the counter that separated his kitchenette from his living room, feeling trapped and terrified. "Look," he half-laughed, half-gasped, "my car keys are on the table. My wallet is in my coat and has all my credit cards. My PIN number is my birthday. You can have my money and car, whatever, fine. Just," Bill gulped again, "just don't kill me."

Hair Gel cocked his head to the side. "Why would you think we were going to kill you?" he asked sharply.

"Oh please. I've seen all the _20/20_ shows and cop dramas. I know how this works," Bill sneered, trying to become bigger than he was, to fight these intruders in his life. They would bring him no good, he was sure of that,

Eye patch, apparently Xander, laughed. "I don't believe it. Spike's become a nerd."

"What do spikes have to do with any of this?" Bill asked, trying to decipher the language of these people.

"Enough," said the British man. He looked at Bill steadily. "We are not here to harm or rob you. My name is Giles. That's Xander," he pointed at Eye patch, confirming what Bill had assumed, "There is Buffy," Skinny Blonde girl, "this is Willow," the redhead, "and this..." Giles paused for a moment as he stared at the tall, dark, looming individual, who was still holding the gun.

"My name's Angel," the man proclaimed quietly, after a moment.

"Oh, how nice," Bill laughed, semi-hysterical. "We all have names. Why should I care? 'Cause, if you aren't after my money and things, then what exactly are you after?"

"This is going to sound kind of insane, um...William?" Buffy guessed, trying to seem non-threatening. _Nothing doing,_ Bill thought as he tried to subtly back away. _Something's scary about her. Just like Angel._

"I don't really, er, go by 'William'," Bill muttered, after Buffy's comment had registered with him. "It's Bill, mostly."

"Well then, Bill," Buffy nodded reassuringly, or tried to anyway, "this is going to sound kind of insane. But we...well, we need you to help save the world from vampires, demon, and the forces of darkness."

Bill blinked. They weren't joking. They _really_ weren't joking. "You're right. It does sound insane. And following that line of thought...huh?"

"Vampires are real, so are demons, the world is filled with them and their slightly more scary masters," Willow explained. "We fight them. Buffy is a Vampire Slayer. I'm a witch. Angel is a vampire too, but he has a soul. Xander and Giles," she glanced at them sheepishly, "are human. And they fight too."

"Very nice summary, Will," Xander commented. Willow beamed.

Bill was understandably distressed. He had thought that these people were crazy before. Now he had proof. It was possible they were on drugs. _Always wondered why the teachers were so adamant on saying no to crack. Now I understand why._ "Well, that's all very nice and disturbing," Bill smiled calmingly in a talking-to-lunatics voice. "I'll be sure and lock my doors at night."

"He doesn't believe us," Angel stated. Bill grimaced. Angel made him nervous by just existing. _He's pale enough to be a vampire, I suppose. But dressing completely in black is an obvious rip-off of Dracula or something._

"What would you do, if we weren't blocking your way?" Giles questioned, looking mildly curious.

"I would call the police, let them test you for drugs and mental disorders, then never think of any of you ever again." Honesty was sometimes the best policy.

Buffy casually reached over and ripped the phone and cradle from the wall. Bill goggled. This petite woman looked like eye-gouging and pepper spray were her only forms of defense, but that was clearly not the case. Still...

"Okay, but that doesn't necessarily prove anything." Bill gestured to his fallen phone. "The walls are thin and crumbling and..." he was suddenly furious. These people had come into his house and told him lies and scared the hell out of him, and now they were just staring at his disbelief in amusement. He threw his arms and yelled, "This is such bullshit! You're just some losers who like to play pretend, or creeps that like to mess with people. Either way, I'm not playing along, so just save yourselves some time and leave!"

Angel sighed suddenly. "Always the hard way with you, isn't it?" Then his face changed, for lack of a better word. His forehead became ridged and teeth sharpened to jagged points. He was a much more convincing vampire now.

Bill began making strange, choking noises that he hardly believed could come from his own throat. His head shook back and forth frantically, while the rest of his body just shook. The terrified man looked into Angel's golden, predatory eyes and sat down suddenly, unable to stay standing. Angel stared at him on the floor for a moment longer, and then his face faded back to its handsome human features.

"I believe you now," Bill squeaked, wishing he didn't sound so frightened. "Please leave."

"We can't," Giles said. "We've already told you. We need your help."

"I don't know anything!" Bill was frantic. "I don't know about demons or monsters. Up until today, I didn't even think they were real."

"Yes you did," Angel disagreed, reaching forward suddenly and dragging Bill to his feet. "You just don't remember who you are."

"Who am I?" _This isn't real_, Bill tried to tell himself. But he wasn't even sure what real was, as of the last five minutes.

"You were a vampire named Spike. You helped save the world." Angel winced, almost imperceptibly. "You became human."

"Oh." Oh hell. This couldn't be good.


	2. Shanshu and the Duster

Feedback: Please

Rating: PG-13, for some language and imagery

Disclaimer: I don't own them, I just like to play with them

A/N_: Italics_ indicate Bill's thoughts

Chapter 2

Bill walked down the stairs. With Xander in front of him, Angel and Buffy at his side, and Willow and Giles bringing up the rear, he couldn't have run if he'd wanted to. Which he kind of did. Because the farther he got away from his apartment, the more he doubted that any of this was real. What was the last thing he was sure was real? He remembered driving home. Maybe he had crashed his car and was in the hospital in the middle of some morphine-induced hallucination.

Once Angel's face had done that horrible melting thing, Bill had been ready to walk across hot coals to avoid any more unpleasant surprises. But now that Angel looked human again and Bill had some nice, open air, he was beginning to seriously doubt his decision.

So lost was Bill in his second thoughts that he forgot about The Step. The Step was the bane of his existence. It was on the flight of stairs between the second floor and the first, making it unavoidable if Bill wanted to reach his fourth floor apartment. Every time, literally EVERY time, he stepped on The Step, Bill went sprawling. Up the stairs, down the stairs, injuring himself and spilling everything he was carrying. The Step did this only for Bill; no one else was ever affected. So naturally, the minute Bill set a foot on it, he fell into Xander, who went tumbling down the stairs with a surprised yelp. Bill was saved from this indignity by Buffy's iron grip on his shirt collar.

"Graceful," the Slayer commented.

"You did that on purpose!" Xander accused, rubbing his arm from the landing of the first floor.

Bill, who was still off-balance and was held up only by Buffy's death grip, gasped out, "If I could breathe, I'd respond."

Buffy set him back on The Step and they made their way out of Bill's apartment building without further incident. The silence that reigned in the group was oppressive and lasted until they reached the exit. There was an awning covering the sidewalk around the door, and an honest-to-God _limousine_ was waiting for them. _The crazy people have some money. Nice._ Bill shook his head. There was no way he was going with these people, limo or not. Never let them take you to Location 2; he remembered that much from the survival shows.

"Get in the car," Angel ordered, sensing his reluctance. The so-called vampire was not venturing out into the sunlight. _That makes sense._

"I don't get in cars with strangers," Bill snapped. "I learned it at a young age."

"Then we'll strap you to the roof," Xander answered, opening the limo door on the side opposite from Bill. The dark haired man was still upset about The Step.

"Bill," Willow pleaded, grimacing around his name like it was strange to say, "please get in the car. This is important in the huge sense."

"I changed my mind. I'm not interested in the road trip."

"You can't change your answer. It was your Final Answer," Buffy argued. Giles was polishing his glasses almost frantically.

"The only reason I agreed to come was because of his weird fang-face," Bill pointed to Angel, who was looming over him. "But he is normal now, so my incentive is gone."

"This is stupid. Just drag him into the limo," suggested Xander, leaning against the doorframe.

"C'mon. Make the scary face; I'm prepared now," Bill made a 'do it' motion towards Angel, who blinked at him one time.

"Knock him unconscious."

"No, no!" the blonde said quickly, holding up his hands to ward them off. "I-I'll go." Not giving himself a chance to lose his nerve, he climbed in. Once inside the limo, there was no going back.

The interior of the limousine was dim, probably because of the tinted windows. _For Angel. _The seats were leather and comfortable, and they lined all four sides of the limo. The wine-colored carpeting was better than what Bill had in his apartment. As everyone filed in, the blonde man began to understand the social order within this group. Buffy, Willow, and Xander sat across from him, in a group. Giles sat to his right, alone, which made sense. The man was different from everyone, being over forty and British. But he still sat towards Buffy and the others. Angel sat to Bill's left, and was very clearly alone, isolated. Not an accepted member of the clique. It reminded Bill of the high school cafeteria.

Bill himself sat with his back to the driver and was delighted to discover there was a niche that held a mini-fridge. Food. Beverages. The possibility of beer. As soon as the limo started moving, Bill asked, "Is there beer in here?"

"Yes."

The door to the fridge swung open to reveal some bottled water, miniature cans of Coca-Cola (_how cute_) and small, mini-bottles of Jack Daniels. _Oh, thank God._ He had the top of the beer off and had taken his first swig before bothering to ask, "Can you get drunk off these things?"

Much to the blonde man's surprise, this question or something about it caused Angel to crack a smile and chuckle, "No."

"Damn." An awkward silence fell over the car, and Bill glanced from face to face, trying to understand how he had come to this. No one seemed to have the answers, but he caught everyone staring at him at least once. After catching Buffy doing it for the third time in eight minutes, Bill snapped. "Okay, what?! Why am I here, where are you taking me, who are you? I mean, you promised me some answers, let's have them!"

"We'll tell you what's going on when we get to the headquarters," Giles answered.

"Headquarters?" Bill snorted. "What are you, superheroes?"

Everyone glanced at each other. "Kind of," Willow murmured, shrugging.

Bill blinked and took another drink. This was insane. This was totally, completely, put-me-in-a-straightjacket-and-give-me-padded-walls nuts. It was also the most interesting thing that had happened to Bill all year. _Might as well go with it_.

Finally, after about twenty-five minutes of one of the most grating silences of Bill's life, the limo pulled up to a building in what looked like the downtown area of Providence. Everyone calmly got out of the car and walked into the nondescript brick building, aside from Angel, who darted into the building like he was on fire. Actually, Bill could've sworn he saw a puff of smoke come off of the vampire.

The receptionist looked up as they entered the modestly upholstered lobby. "Ah, Mr. Giles. The room is ready."

Giles nodded, and the group turned down a beige hallway. Bill followed grudgingly. The path they took was long and winding, all through identical hallways and flights of stairs. Soon the blonde man was so lost that there was no way he would ever find his way back to the lobby. Maybe that was the point. _The building didn't look this big from outside._

As they turned down another hallway, Bill was suddenly hit by something and caught in a hug. "Ahh!" he yelped, trying to break free.

"Spike!" came the excited voice from behind him. Bill was whirled around and brought alarmingly close to an excited face. The person who had hugged him had excited features, messy blonde hair, and seemed to be ecstatic to see Bill. Too bad he had no idea who this new person was.

"Can it really be you? Spike? Like Anakin Skywalker or Aragorn, you've found your redemption!" the blonde stranger enthused, hugging Bill again.

"Who are you?" Bill asked, alarmed.

"Andrew," Giles said sharply, "he doesn't remember you. Let go of him, you're making him nervous."

"Oh right," the blonde guy, Andrew, gasped as he let go. "You've had your memory wiped."

"Um..." Bill was still lost for words. Fortunately, the beeper hanging at Andrew's waist went off. Andrew glared down at it and said, in the rapid-fire way he had of talking, "That sucks. I have to take this. Great to see you again Spike, we can talk later. Nice hair!" And then Andrew was gone, leaving Bill feeling like he'd just run a marathon.

"Did I...did I date that guy or something?" the blonde asked, trying to understand why Andrew had been that excited to see him. "Tell me I didn't ever date him."

"No," Xander answered. "As far as we can tell, he's always had some sort of weird, heterosexual man-crush on you."

"Yay? And why was he calling me Spike?"

"Long story. Come on, we're almost there." And finally, they all went into a small room. The room had some chairs, a wooden table, and a bulging folder sitting on the table. It was otherwise bare, except for the black leather thing draped across one of the chairs. Buffy picked up the leather coat and tossed it to him. "This is yours."

Bill grabbed the coat and looked at it. His size. It was so...black and cool and...from somewhere deep inside of Bill's mind, something came welling up. This coat, it reminded him of things that had never happened, to him anyway. Destruction and terror, not his own, a subway and a dead girl and piercings, towns and people and places, and pale, dark-haired crazy woman who reminded him of love and evil. Burning. Ghosts. Something about Italy. This coat was another time and place and he clutched it to himself, suddenly out of breath.

"Remember?" Angel asked, suddenly standing by him.

"I remember something," Bill gasped.

"It's not the original," the vampire explained, guiding Bill to a seat. "That one got destroyed in Rome. But it was the one you wore as a replacement."

"This coat is mine?"

"It's called a duster. A leather duster."

"It's mine?"

"Yes."

"I like this leather duster. A lot."

"We thought you might."

Everyone took a seat. "Bill," Giles said, "you aren't who you think you are."

"Kind of getting that."

The British man looked annoyed to be interrupted. "The truth is probably best. You are, or were, a vampire. You were turned in the late 1800's by a vampire named Drusilla."

"She was your Sire," Angel continued the story, looking at Bill. "I was her Sire. She brought you back to me and my Sire, Darla. For around twenty years, all four of us roamed around Europe, causing chaos and destruction." Angel was saying this all very quickly, like he didn't want to be saying it at all. Bill stared at him and got flashes of something, just like he had with the duster. Angel with long hair, the smell of blood, the feeling of a cat-o'-nine-tails biting into his back. Being taught to fight. To kill.

"Angelus," Bill whispered, not sure where the name came from, but sure of it nonetheless.

Angel nodded, eyes never leaving Bill's. "Until around 1898, when I was cursed by Gypsies in Romania. They gave me a soul, a conscience, and I left the group. Met up with you again in 1900, in China, where you killed a Vampire Slayer."

"You stayed with Drusilla, and came to Sunnydale, California in 1997," Buffy continued where Angel had left off. "The whole group her fought against you on and off until my first year of college. A military group called the Initiative put a microchip in your head that kept you from hurting humans. You joined up with me, Willow, Giles, and Xander because we gave money and blood."

"The Scooby Gang," Xander muttered quietly. "Don't forget Anya."

"Or Tara," Willow said, just as quietly.

"Where were you?" Bill asked Angel.

"L.A."

"Why?"

Buffy and Angel looked down simultaneously, and the vampire muttered, "It was just better that way."

"Then, about two years ago, you got a soul." Buffy looked up and smiled at him and Bill felt his heart start to race. She was really very pretty. "Fought for one. Then came along a big evil called the First. In the last battle against it, you died to save the world."

Bill suddenly felt quite cold. Which was odd, because he also remembered burning. Somewhere, his voice with a Cockney accent laughed and said 'I wanna see how it ends.' Oh God.

"You showed up again in L.A.," Angel was saying. "As a ghost. Eventually, you became corporeal again. My friends in L.A. had taken over a law firm called Wolfram and Hart, which was pretty much ultimate evil."

"Well, yeah."

"We planned to change it, use it for good but..." Angel trailed off, and Bill realized that the dark haired vampire was squeezing the table so hard that tiny cracks were beginning to appear in the wood. "But that didn't work out. In the end, we fought against the Senior Partners, the beings that controlled the firm. The only...survivors were you and I and a demon named Illyria. And Lorne, but he left before the last big fight." This meant almost nothing to Bill, but he didn't say that to Angel. The vampire was still upset about his friends, apparently.

"At the end of the battle," Angel finally let go of the table and sighed once, "you became human."

"Why?" Bill asked, almost unable to form words.

"Because of something called the Shanshu Prophecy," Giles finished. "It states that the vampire with a soul will become human and have his past washed clean."

"But don't you have a soul?" the blonde asked Angel.

The vampire responded tersely, "To fool the Senior Partners, I signed the Shanshu Prophecy in blood. It meant I forfeited the right to become human."

"That sucks."

"Yes, yes it did."

"You became human," Giles continued, "and to wipe your past clean, the Powers That Be-"

"The Powers That Be what?"

"Just think of them as the higher powers," the British man sighed. "Anyway, to wipe your past clean, from the guilt, they erased your memory. Gave you a new life, false memories, let you live as if you had always been human."

"Then why are you here telling me this?" Bill was somewhat upset.

"Because the Senior Partners are back," Angel explained. "And you're the only one that can...can stop them."

Bill, having just been told that everything he knew was a lie, could really only react in one way. "Jesus. This sounds like a TV show or something."

TBC


	3. Rooftop Therapy

Part: 3/?

Rating: PG-13, though not much in this chapter

Disclaimer: I own nothing and make no money. Joss is king.

Chapter 3

Bill sat on the roof of the building, smoking the eighth cigarette in the pack. There were four crumpled, empty packs at his feet. His position on the ledge, leaning against the corner were two of the rails around the top of the roof connected, let him just sit, having as little contact with the building as possible. He swore as the cigarette burned his fingers. He'd let it go for too long. Time for another one.

"Spike, er, Bill?" came Angel's voice, almost hesitant. "Are you up here?"

"Yeah," Bill called back. He lit another cigarette. The dark vampire emerged from the stairs leading up to the roof. Night had fallen while Bill sat up here, watching the sun set and the stars come to life. Angel blended in almost perfectly with the darkness; only his pale skin gave him away. _I would have been that pale,_ Bill thought, tilting his head as he looked at Angel. _When I was...dead. _Not that he was overly tan now, but there was a noticeable difference. The blonde man felt a slight swell of superiority. He was not as pale as death, as some less tactful co-workers had claimed.

"I was sent up here to make sure you hadn't jumped," Angel commented as he came to stand beside Bill's perch.

"Easier ways to kill myself, if I was going to," Bill mused, taking a drag on the cigarette. "Run the car in the garage. Take a hairdryer into the bathtub..."

"If you cut a person's wrists in just the right way, then no amount of stitches and doctors can make the bleeding stop," Angel offered, not moving to sit down. Bill appreciated this.

"You know a lot about killing then?" the blonde asked as he watched the ash flutter away. It made sense that Angel would know about killing. Vampire.

"I was kind of an expert on it," Angel sighed, finally leaning against the railing next to Bill's propped up feet."

"Was I any good at it?" _Say no, say no_.

"You were fairly decent."

"Ah." Balls. _Bollocks. What?_

Angel continued leaning against the rail, and etiquette dictated that Bill offer him a cigarette; the vampire declined. The two sat in the silence for a bit longer. Angel finally grunted, probably rolled his eyes, and asked, "Are you going to stay up here all night, because I have to go down and tell them something."

Bill stared across the glowing city of Providence. It was not big, not all that important in the grand scheme of things. The perfect place to stash someone who needed to disappear from the world. "Where is here?" the blonde asked.

"Here?" Angel seemed confused, which was sort of what Bill had been going for. "This is Providence, Rhode Island."

"I know that," the former vampire snapped, suddenly angry. "I came in and your lot told me a scary story, which the strange pictures in my head seem to more or less verify. Then, when I appeared on the brink of a mental breakdown after the information sank in, I was told I could do anything I liked, so long as I stayed in the building. What it the building? Who are you people?"

Angel held up his hands. "Calm down. The building is the temporary headquarters for the United States Branch of the Watcher's Council."

"What the hell does that mean?" Bill wasn't angry so much as tired of being confused.

Angel sat down on the railing next to Bill's feet, though he was too tall for his feet to dangle. The vampire explained about Slayers and their Watchers, about one girl in all the world fated to die so that others could live. He explained about how when one died, another rose in her place. He explained about what The First had done to the original Watcher's Council and how Buffy had shared her curse with all of the other potential Slayers. How Giles was now the unofficial head of the new Watcher's Council, despite being fired before. How Xander and Buffy and Willow had been spread across the world, putting up makeshift branches of the Council, trying to handle the sudden overload of Slayers. How, when magick had revealed that the Senior Partners were going to make a move and that they needed Bill to help them, the entire operation had moved to Rhode Island and most of the humans Bill had known had come with it.

It had taken three and a half cigarettes for Angel to explain everything in his short, quiet way. The blonde glanced at Angel, who was looking over the lights of Providence with an almost pained expression on his face. "Are you okay?" the man asked.

"In..." Angel wasn't even looking at Bill, more like talking to himself, "in L.A., I would stand on the roof of my apartment look at the stars. I watched the sunset from the roof of that place, for the first time in two centuries. A friend of mine found me in that building and told me my path in life, told me to fight the good fight. That friend died and Wolfram and Hart destroyed that building.

"Then I moved into a giant, empty hotel where I had lived in the 50's. So much happened in that hotel, my life changed in so many ways, that I loved the place. How could I not? It had a better view of the stars and the moon. And I still gave it up. Not just it, I practically sold my soul, to move to Wolfram and Hart. I didn't go to the roof there. It had lights and a helicopter pad. I could see the stars through my window. See the sun, through special glass. I hated that place. Now that building is gone too, destroyed by the Senior Partners."

Bill could read the pain in Angel's voice, and sensed that he was catching the vampire in a rare moment of openness. "Why did you go to Wolfram and Hart?" the blonde man asked gently, curiously.

"Someone I loved more than anything, my-my son," the dark vampire looked down and whispered the name 'Connor', "they could give him a normal life. A real family, fake memories. A world that wasn't filled with guilt and horror and monsters at the door."

"I thought that vampires couldn't have kids."

"They can't," Angel laughed hollowly. "He was a miracle. And he got taken away from me. Twice."

"I'm sorry." It sounded so incredibly lame, such a poor response to this creature's pain. Angel looked at him sharply, suddenly. "Do you know why we called you Spike, why that was your name instead of William?"

"No."

"You tortured your victims with railroad spikes. Very messy, very painful. I don't need your sympathy Spike. You weren't capable of sympathy until you got a soul."

Bill wanted to protest, wanted to say that he would never torture anyone, especially not with a railroad spike. But from the duster/Angel-memory place, he remembered the feel of metal in his hand, of driving it into someone's gut. "Why were you Angelus?" he asked instead.

"It was the name I took when I rose," Angel muttered. "Latin for 'Angel'. When I got my soul, I didn't want to be Angelus anymore. When I lose my soul, it's Angelus again. A way of telling good and evil apart."

"You lose your soul?" Bill was suddenly alarmed.

Angel laughed again, but there was still no humor in it. "Don't worry, Billy," the name was sneered, "I lose my soul if I have a moment of perfect happiness. I won't have that any time soon." Bill went silent in the face of Angel's hostility. He looked out again at the city and took in, again, everything that he had been told. And laughed.

Angel stared at him, face unreadable. "Is there something funny?"

Bill took another drag on the cigarette. "This is. This is insane. Sitting on a roof with a vampire, _being a vampire_, once upon a time. This is some dream, or hallucination, or something. I'll wake up and be in my apartment, or a hospital, somewhere other than here. I'll go back to work and laugh it up with my co-workers, or go to a shrink and have the dream analyzed. But this place, you? Not real."

The vampire stared at Bill for a moment. Then, faster than the human's eyes could follow, Angel snatched the cigarette from Bill's hand and pressed it against his pinky finger, just long enough for the unfortunate man to feel a flash of pain. "OW! Jesus, what the hell was that?!" Bill yelped as he examined the burn. It wasn't really a burn at all, just a stinging mark; Angel had removed the cigarette fairly quickly.

The vampire tossed the offending cig over the side of the building. "Proof. Most people here wake up every morning and pretend for a few seconds that life isn't real. But they get out of bed and deal with it. So will you. That was your wake-up call."

Bill stared at the vampire incredulously. "You really aren't a people person, you know that?"

Angel's mouth formed a small smirk. "It's been said."

Still rubbing his hand, Bill glanced over the side of the railing, down to the sidewalk. "That was my last cigarette you know. I bought four packs from that little machine downstairs. Now I'm going to have to buy more, thanks to you."

The dark-haired vampire was completely deadpan as he said, "Those things will kill you."

Bill stared at him suspiciously and asked, "Are you making a joke?"

"Possibly. We need to get inside. They'll start turning off the lights and locking the doors soon." Bill had been offered a room in the headquarters, and since he had no way of getting back to his apartment, he'd excepted. Apparently, this building and the surrounding one housed most of the staff. Giles had mentioned that someone had gone to his house and grabbed some of his things, for which Bill was grateful.

Angel led him down through the labyrinth corridors to a door numbered 34. Bill, who had already come home to a room full of strangers, was therefore not completely surprised when his door swung open to reveal someone was already in his room.

The someone was a woman. She was very thin and pretty, in a bookish sort of way. Her hair was long and light brown hair. Her clothes, a long-sleeved blouse and knee-length skirt, were soft shades of brown and gold. Altogether, she seemed like a nice person. Until Bill looked her in the eyes. There was something cold there, something not human that hinted at power and ancientness.

"Illyria," Angel sighed, "what're you doing in here?"

Illyria's voice was strangely flat and even as she answered, "I heard that this was Spike's room. I came in search of him and discovered this plant." Illyria gestured to a small potted cactus sitting on the nightstand. "I can nearly understand it, unlike many of the growing things now."

"That's nice," Angel replied, looking tired.

"Wait," Bill interrupted, confused once again. "I thought you said Illyria was a demon. She doesn't _look_ like a demon. Is she a vampire too?"

"I am NOT a half-breed!" Illyria hissed, looking offended.

"Calm down Illyria," Angel ordered. To Bill, he said, "Illyria can change the way she appears. The form she's in now is," the vampire looked down for a moment, "is what the woman whose body she took over looked like. Winifred Burkle."

"You knew her?" Bill guessed. Illyria was watching the exchange with what appeared to be controlled interest.

"So did you. Everyone called her Fred. Illyria hollowed Fred out so she could come into the world." The dark-haired vampire explained this all in a neutral, resigned voice, like he had told this story many times before.

"And everybody was okay with this?" asked Bill, glancing suspiciously at the innocent-looking Illyria, who was studying him like he was a particularly interesting insect that she had pinned under a microscope.

"No," Angel said shortly, thus explaining away what was probably a fascinating story. "But things changed. Fred is gone and we can't bring her back. Illyria had her powers drained, to save her, and she helps out now."

"I wear this form because the humans here become hostile when I wear my other form," Illyria offered as an explanation. "We are more similar now, Spike. We have both had our powers taken from us. But you are weaker still, for you do not even recall what it was to have your powers." She cocked her head to the side in a sharp motion. "And you cannot even mourn for their loss."

"Huh," Bill offered, by way of response, almost used to being called 'Spike' by now. Having strangers talk to him like they knew him was still disconcerting, though.

"Out, Illyria," Angel said. "Give him some peace."

Illyria picked up the potted cactus. "I am taking this with me. I hope to converse with it further. Perhaps we will train later, Spike." And then she walked from the room, regal and untouchable.

"Train?" wondered Bill as he sat down on the bed, looking at his own suitcase that sat at the foot of it.

"Don't worry about it," muttered the vampire. "If she asks you about training again, remind her that you're human now and probably wouldn't survive it." Angel stared at the now plant-less nightstand. "You want another cactus?"

"No," answered Bill, suddenly more exhausted then he'd ever been in his life. "Somehow, putting a cactus next to an alarm clock seems like a bad idea."

"Fair enough. Get some sleep, Bill." Even more quickly than Illyria, Angel was gone. Bill sighed and flipped open his suitcase, pulling out a pair of the loose flannel pants that he wore as pajamas. He expected to dream. What he did not expect were nightmares.


	4. What Dreams May Come

Rating: PG-13, for language

Feedback: Yes please.

Disclaimer: I own nothing and make no money. Joss is king.

A/N: _Italics _indicated Bill's thoughts. The scenes/quotes used are from the _Buffy the_ _Vampire Slayer_ episode, _Fool for Love_.

Chapter 4

Bill was in the dark. He hated the dark. For as long as he could remember, which wasn't that long according to his life's interlopers, the darkness of night had terrified him. He always felt as if there was something out there, waiting to get him. Because of this strange phobia, he never walked on dark streets. Took taxis home even when he wasn't drunk. Refused to go out of his apartment after dusk had fallen. These somewhat neurotic habits had been faced the scorn of just about anyone who'd noticed, because hell, even teenage girls would try to walk it if they were fairly close to home, and Bill was a grown man. Who just happened to still fear the boogeyman. Although, if he actually _was _a former vampire, then that would explain a lot. Somewhere, instinctively, he knew what was out there.

But now he was alone in the dark, the worst place to be, and was still afraid. Bill shivered as he walked down the empty streets. All of the buildings were empty and unlit. The streetlights weren't on, but he could still see the shapes of everything. It was like movie-night, where the characters couldn't see anything, but the audience could. The blonde man shook his head. _Way to lose focus._ Where was he? It looked a lot like pictures he'd seen of L.A., right down to the corner of Hollywood and Vine. But he didn't remember being here, right? He wasn't supposed to. Bill pulled his duster tighter around himself before he realized that he was even wearing it. He looked down and nearly laughed out loud, despite the fear crawling up the back of his spine. He was still in his office clothes: nice, blue, long-sleeved shirt, red tie, and slacks. Somewhere between his house and the Watcher's headquarters, he'd ditched the tie. It had come back for more, apparently. This had to be a dream.

"Oh God," Bill moaned aloud, almost giving himself whiplash as he whirled his head around, trying to find the enemy. _The moment you realize that this is a dream is always when they get you_. The emptiness persisted. The fact that it was in a city that he knew should be crawling with people only made it worse. Bill was almost on the brink of bolting for the nearest building and locking himself in a room with a flashlight when Angel appeared. Literally, just materialized in the middle of the road, like some magician's trick.

It wasn't Angel, not exactly. He was in vampire face and dressed in...leather pants? Something else was wrong though. His eyes were cold, mocking, held none of the softness that normally resides there. They were...soulless. _Evil_, thought Bill, as some long forgotten church sermon popped into his mind._ The Devil's eyes look like that. Reflecting the darkest part of human beings_.

"Ever the poet, aren't you Spike?" Angel drawled. _Holy God, can he read my mind? _Even his voice was different. The mocking tone was evident in every syllable, and there were the faintest traces of what sounded like an Irish accent. "Even after they've done the mind warp on you." The vampire began to circle him, and the small, reptilian part of the blonde man's brain began throwing out urgent warnings about vultures and sharks.

Something clicked in that same part of Bill's mind. "You're Angelus," he stated, turning to follow the still-circling vampire.

Angelus chuckled. "Give the boy a gold star." He finally stopped moving and stared at Bill appraisingly. "You sound weird without your fake accent."

"Fake accent?" Bill asked, confused, still afraid. But strangely, he was more afraid of the dark than he was Angelus. Maybe it was because he knew Angelus, even if he didn't remember. The dark was always unknown.

"The Cockney accent you made up a few months after you were turned," Angelus explained. "Not ringing a bell? All right." And suddenly, Bill was staring at himself. Or more accurately, what he used to be. His face was a little leaner and his skin was paler. His clothes were clearly from a different era, and not particularly fancy. The kind of clothes, relatively speaking, that Bill would've worn if he went out drinking with Drew._ Giles said I was turned in the 1880's. And evil Angel said this was a few months after I was turned. This is how I looked late nineteenth century. Would that mean that I was Spike?_ Spike's hair was ruffled and unruly. But Flashback Spike's biggest problem was not his hair. It was that he was being pinned to the wall of a building. _Probably not this particular building though, considering it didn't exist._

Bill studied the person doing the pinning: nineteenth-century Angelus. His hair was long, going down to his shoulders, like it had been in the hazy memories that Bill had managed to summon. The older vampire was in human face and unlike Spike, Angelus looked like someone of high-society, dressed up and proper. The two of them clearly didn't share opinions on how to live after death. At the moment, Old Spike and Old Angelus (as the blonde man had begun to call them in his mind) were both motionless, looking like a movie that had been paused.

The current, leather-pants-wearing Angelus stepped up to where Bill was staring and explained, "Pulled from your memory, even if you can't get to it. Yorkshire, 1880. We were in a mineshaft. The sequence of events that brought us there only confirmed my sneaking suspicion that you were a complete idiot."

"If this is my memory, then how can I see myself?" challenged Bill, mostly just for the sake of being stubborn.

Angelus shrugged. "It's how you imagine yourself to be in that particular moment. Fairly accurate, although you aren't as muscular in reality." Bill gave him a sour look. The vampire just grinned a grin that showed more teeth than the human was entirely comfortable with, and ordered, "Watch. You'll see about your accent."

The nineteenth century vampires began moving. Spike began struggling to break free, and Old Angelus just held on tighter and asked, "Perhaps it's my advancing age that make me so forgetful, William." Oh yes, definitely an Irish accent for Angelus. "Why don't we kill you?" The flashback vampires seemed unaware that they were on an L.A. street and had two creatures watching them.

Bill leaned over and asked current Angelus, in a hushed tone, "Why'd you call me William? I thought that was only my name when I was human?"

The vampire glanced at him in amusement. "Shut up and watch."

Spike was choking out something around Angelus's death grip. It sounded like 'ike' or 'pike'. "What's that?" Angelus asked, releasing Spike.

The younger vampire rubbed his throat and glared. "It's 'Spike' now," he growled, in the Cockney accent that echoed in the back of Bill's head. "You'd do well to remember it, mate."

Old Angelus blinked at him in annoyance. "I'm not your mate. And when did you start talking like that?" And then they both disappeared, back into the parts of Bill's brain that were locked away from him.

"So, there's you as a vampire," current Angelus said, almost businesslike, clearly enjoying Bill's confusion. "Let's take you to the night that you died."

And there he was again. But very different this time. His skin was not as pale as it had been, though he was not particularly tanned. His hair was still unruly though. Unlike Spike, this man was dressed as a gentleman, complete with tie. _So I'm not the only one._ And there was something else that was different then the vampire Spike. Some bravado or confidence that wasn't there in the human. _Something else we have in common._

"This is what I looked like the night I d-died?" Bill asked, feeling a lightheaded, like he wasn't really grounded to anything anymore. _Wait..._ "Buffy said I died to save the world. That means that I died twice!"

"Don't let it go to your head," Angelus advised. "Plenty of people have died twice. Angel, Buffy...my Sire, Darla, died four times."

Bill blinked. "How is that even possible?"

"Not the point. Watch."

William the human began talking to an empty space, where a person had probably been. "Oh yes!" William seemed to give himself a mental slap on both cheeks. "I mean, no." He glanced to the side. "I mean...mother's expecting me." He then disappeared.

"Wow, the voice really is different," Bill observed. "And that changed in just a few months? Huh. Wait a minute." The human replayed William's words. "I'm what, twenty-something? 'Mother's expecting me'? I sound like Norman Bates!"

Angelus grinned and agreed, "I think, had Drusilla allowed you to live out the rest of your natural life, you would have become the nineteenth century equivalent of him."

"Even the cross-dressing and murder?"

"Anything's possible."

The blonde man stared at Angelus. "What was the point of all of that anyway?"

"One: To prove that you lived your entire unlife as a fraud." Bill nodded in concession. "Two: To show you what you have in your mind, if you could get to it." Angelus smiled his scary smile again.

Bill shook his head. _Time to wake up now_. "Well, this dream has been very informative, but I'd like to wake up and eat breakfast, so if you don't mind-"

Angelus sighed. "I can see we're going to have to do this the hard way. All right 'Bill', the first thing you should know about all of this is," Angelus cocked back a fist, "not a dream." And then the vampire punched Bill. And it hurt like hell.

Agony flared through his entire face as the vampire's fist slammed into his nose. It felt like his sinuses were on fire and Bill tumbled backwards, scraping his hands on the pavement as he reached out to catch himself.

"Ahh Will, you've forgotten how to take a fall," Angelus commented, amused, from somewhere above the injured man.

Bill was trying to remember which direction, up or down, you were supposed to tilt your head in case of nosebleed and could only respond, "You son of a bitch, what the hell was that for?!"

Angelus laughed and crouched down to where Bill was sprawled. "I told you this wasn't a dream. It's not real, but it's not a dream."

"What _are_ you?" the man asked, not trying to get up.

"I'm your memory of Angelus," the vampire admitted.

"What, so I just made you up?" _God, my face hurts._ Angelus nodded. "Then how come you could hit me?"

The dark-haired vampire chuckled. "Maybe you aren't listening. I'm your memory of _Angelus_. I hit you a lot. And it tended to hurt."

"So why are you here?"

"That would be telling," Angelus smiled, "and right now, you wouldn't be willing to listen." The vampire picked Bill up effortlessly and placed him on his feet, dusting him off with those huge paws that passed as hands. "You aren't ready to hear it. So wake up Bill, go about your day." Angelus slung an arm around Bill's shoulders. "And be suspicious. They won't tell you the truth. See you tonight."

Bill jerked awake amid sweat-soaked sheets, gasping for breath. He threw the covers off of him and darted to the small bathroom that was attached to his room. Blinking as the lights assaulted his eyes painfully, the blonde man examined his face in the mirror. No broken nose. No blood. He looked at his hands. His palms weren't scraped raw from their close encounter with asphalt.

"This sucks," Bill said to his reflection. He splashed some water onto his face but it didn't change anything. The memories were still there. The blonde man sat down on the floor and leaned against the wall. What did he do now? 'They won't tell you the truth'? What 'they' had Angelus been talking about? Angel and Buffy and the others?

Bill wandered back into his room and grabbed the toothbrush that had been packed along with some of his clothes. _How did the Watcher people get into my apartment anyway? Break in? Did they have a spare key?_ Miniature, complementary Crest toothpaste onto the brush, just like in hotels. Shower with miniature, complementary shampoo, soap, and conditioner. White, fluffy towels. Because Bill wasn't feeling enough of a sense of unreality. Hair still damp, because they didn't give him a hairdryer, the blonde man changed into a pair of blue jeans and a black T-shirt. Bill had always liked black T-shirts, for some reason.

A knock at his door nearly made him leap out of his skin. "Spike?" came Andrew's voice. "Are you awake in there?"

"Yeah," Bill called. He opened the door. Andrew smiled when he saw him.

"It's good to see you again," the boy said.

"Yeah. Thanks."

"I'm supposed to kind of show you around," Andrew continued. "Everyone else was busy and I volunteered."

"Okay, sure."

Bill followed Andrew out into the hall. "Can we get breakfast?" the blonde man asked.

"Lunch, more like," commented Andrew. "It's 11:30. We didn't want to wake you. There's a restaurant across the street. You still like onion blossoms, right?"

"I love onion blossoms."


	5. The Reasons

Rating: PG-13

Feedback: Yes please

Disclaimer: I own nothing and Joss is king. I don't even get to keep them.

A/N: _Italics_ indicate Bill's thoughts. This chapter (5, for those of you paying attention) is divided into two parts because of length. Sorry. I won't make a habit of doing it.

Chapter 5, Part 1

Bill munched on his portion of the onion blossom and listened to Andrew talk. And talk. And talk. About everything. People Bill didn't know, people Bill was supposed to know, but Andrew's chatter was a good thing, considering the blonde man had no idea what to say to Andrew.

Knowledge was gathered during lunch: Willow was a lesbian, and missed her girlfriend who was still in South America. Bill didn't have a problem with gay people; he had a sneaking suspicion that his friend Drew had a closet lesbian girlfriend. Andrew also mentioned that Buffy had broken up with some guy called The Immortal. The boy got strangely quiet when he said that, and stared at Bill for a moment. Bill wasn't sure what he was supposed to make of the situation, and Andrew didn't press.

After lunch, the pair went back to the Watcher's Council headquarters and Bill was treated to Andrew's version of a grand tour.

"Okay, through those doors is the cafeteria, and the food is mostly British cafeteria food. Not that British food is bad, I drank a lot of tea in London, but it tastes different to you, probably. And of course, all cafeteria food is bad. Then down those stairs is the basement, where we have training rooms and things. Illyria spends a lot of time down there, which is why I don't go there very much, except if I'm doing target practice. I miss the Slender, Attractive Woman. She was nice. Illyria isn't as nice, you know? There's something cold about her, like the Terminator meets the Queen." Bill was amused, if slightly exasperated, by Andrew, and found the tour fairly informative.

"Vampires actually drink blood, right?" Bill asked curiously as they walked down another hallway. Andrew laughed for a moment, and then stared at Bill.

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" Bill was perplexed as to why Andrew thought this was funny.

"You really don't remember anything about what you used to be, do you?" Andrew asked, looking at the blonde man almost sadly.

"No," and now he was kind of irritated. Did everyone think he was faking this or something?

Andrew looked at him for a long moment, and then said, "Yes, vampires drink blood."

"Do they always kill the people they drink from?"

"Mostly. I mean, sometimes they can leave them alive, but they don't usually."

"Do crosses really hurt them?"

"Yup. Makes their flesh sizzle. It smells strangely like bacon." The two had begun walking again, not really paying attention to where they were going.

"Sunlight?"

"Flaming death."

"Fire?"

"More flaming death."

"Coffins?"

"No. Angel says that once you wake up in a coffin, you never want to go back. Buffy kind of agrees, even though she doesn't really like to talk about it that much."

"Talk about what?" Bill questioned, curious. "Why would Buffy have been in a coffin?" Buffy, the short little Slayer whom he hadn't seen since the day they brought him here. She seemed very alive, not the type who would end up six feet under.

"Oh," Andrew paled a little and looked nervous. "I don't...I'm not really supposed to talk about it. They get mad at me."

"Who?"

"The Scoobies."

"Who?" _Like in_ Scooby Doo_? Those kind of Scoobies?_

"Buffy, Xander, Willow, Dawn. Me, I'm pretty sure anyway. I don't know about Giles, since he's old and moved away for a while. The Scooby Gang."

"Who's Dawn, and isn't Angel a part of the 'Scooby Gang'?" Bill's head was starting to spin

The boy was becoming more and more nervous. "Dawn is Buffy's little sister, except she's not. She's actually a glowing ball of light with fake memories. But mostly she's Buffy's little sister." Ah. How informative. "And Angel...we don't really trust Angel, since the Wolfram and Hart thing."

The increasingly awkward conversation was interrupted by someone squealing "Spike!" and slamming into him in a hug that actually _hurt_. The person was a pretty brunette girl who seemed just as happy to see him as Andrew had been.

"Oh my God, it's really you!" The girl enthused, still hugging Bill.

"Dawn, let him go," Xander commanded as he watched the alarmed man and ecstatic girl.

Dawn backed off, but couldn't keep the smile off her face. "It really is you. You look so strange, without the bleached hair."

"I had bleached hair?!" Bill asked, reaching up to touch his curly hair in alarm.

"Bleach, peroxide, call it what you will," Xander said. "But it made you seem slightly more threatening then you are now."

"Um, thank you?" _How does one respond something like that?_

"And even your voice is different and..." Dawn smacked his arm suddenly. "What the hell is wrong with you?! Why didn't you tell any of us that you were alive in L.A.?"

Bill rubbed his arm. "I wish I could tell you. Really. But your guess is as good as mine."

"Oh yeah," Dawn grimaced. "You don't remember anything. You have fake memories." She brightened suddenly. "Kind of like me." This caused Bill to brighten slightly also. Someone else who remembered things that didn't happen.

"Dawn," Xander interrupted, "could you go order the food? I need to talk to Spike for a second."

"Sure," the girl answered. She smiled at Bill. "We can talk later, okay?"

"Yeah, no problem," Bill agreed. Dawn seemed like someone who could at least make him feel less confused about things. She seemed...nice, which was something that he was not encountering all that much of.

As Dawn walked away towards the cafeteria, Xander told Andrew, "Why don't you go with her, to help her carry the food back? I'll be there in a minute, but I don't want her to have to wait."

"Well, I was kind of showing Spike around-" Andrew began, but Xander cut him off.

"Go." And this time, it was an order. Andrew stared for a moment, then nodded and left, looking somewhat forlorn. This left Bill alone with Xander and his eye patch. A place that he was not very comfortable.

"Guess you really are Fangless now, aren't you?" the dark-haired man observed, looking at Bill appraisingly.

"Apparently," Bill responded, back to being confused.

"Look, I know you're really clueless when it comes to what's going on around here, and that might make what I'm about to say sort of immature, but I think I'll go ahead and say it anyway." Xander stepped a little closer to Bill. "Stay away from Buffy. Don't ask her out, don't tell her that she looks pretty or smells nice, no flirting of any kind." He stepped even closer. "Don't go near her room."

Bill blinked, caught between outrage and shock. "Look pal, I don't even know where _my_ room is, much less hers. And who made you the person in charge of things?"

"It's bad enough we've got Deadboy here working his brooding mojo. Nobody needs you screwing things up anymore than you normally do." Xander glared at him, like he was just daring Bill to say something.

_That's it._ Bill did not consider himself a particularly violent person. He had a decent handle on his temper and had yet to suffer from road rage. Under normal circumstances, the blonde man would've just given Xander the finger and walked off to find Andrew and Dawn. But these were not normal circumstances, and after having his life ripped out from under him, Bill was at snapping point.

"Screw you," he laughed scornfully. Xander's glare intensified, which only made Bill laugh harder. The blonde man closed the gap between himself and Xander until he could feel the dark-haired man's breath on his face. The blonde said, quietly and mockingly, "I wasn't really planning on forming any deep and lasting relationships with the freaks who brought me here. But now I think I might. Just to piss you off."

Xander opened his mouth to snarl a response and possibly start a brawl, but Dawn's voice floated down the hall. "Hey, did you want sprinkles or glazed, Xander? Or glazed with sprinkles? Whoa, what's going on?"

Bill didn't miss a beat. "Just getting a closer look at that eye patch of Xander's. Did it hurt, losing the eye?" No need to alarm the little girl.

Xander went with it and responded, "It was excruciating. I could give you a play-by-play later on."

"I'm cool. But thanks for offering."

Dawn didn't look fooled, but didn't press on her questioning. "Glazed or sprinkles?"

"Let's go crazy. Order both," Xander suggested, finally breaking eye contact with Bill.

Andrew came jogging down the hall and told the trio, "Giles just called. He wants to know where the donuts are and why we aren't at the meeting."

"Meeting?" Bill asked, feeling the tension drain away.

"The whole group," Dawn explained. "You'll get some answers, hopefully." She smiled at him again.

The four of them, led by Xander and carrying donuts, tromped up a flight of stairs to a meeting room overlooking the park outside. Buffy, Giles, and Willow sat at one end of the heavy, wooden conference table, while Angel and a bored-looking Illyria sat at the other end. Xander sat next to Willow, Dawn sat next to Buffy, and Andrew sat next to Dawn. Bill's mind was temporarily boggled by the game of social musical chairs that was going on as he watched. _Angel didn't threaten me. Neither did Illyria. That has to count for something._ Bill sat down between Andrew and Angel, with an empty chair on each side. This room had been built for more people, and the empty spaces were making noise.

"Bill," Giles began, wincing around the blonde's name. _This is getting ridiculous._ "You have a lot of questions, I'd imagine?"

"Yeah," Bill agreed. "For starters, why am I here? I'm human, and not exactly a trained demon fighter. I can't really help you out fighting these Senior Partner guys."

"Right to the point," Giles noted. The British man focused on the only vampire in the room. "Angel, you fought the Senior Partners. You tell him."

Angel sighed and leaned forward, forced to focus instead of staring at the knots in the wood of the table. "The Senior Partners are impossible to destroy. I should point that out before you get any misconceptions. They're on a different plane of existence, and it would take more power than we'll ever have to wipe them out completely."

"That's...really depressing," Bill observed.

"Yeah. It gets better." Angel met Bill's eyes. "On the night you became human, we had set out to destroy a group called The Circle of the Black Thorn. They were the ones who were going to bring about the Apocalypse for the Senior Partners."

"Who's we?" asked the blonde man, reaching for a donut with sprinkles.

Angel's eyes closed for just a microsecond of time, opening again so quickly that Bill wondered if they had actually closed at all. If they had, then it was clear that the vampire was still hurting from the loss of his friends, and poking the sore spot probably didn't help matters.

"Me. You. Illyria," Angel began to list. "Then...you don't remember them, but Charles Gunn. Wesley Windham-Pryce." Illyria, still human-looking, inhaled sharply at the mention of Wesley. "Lorne. And...Lindsey McDonald. None of them, um, made it."

"Was Lindsey a girl?" Bill asked around a mouthful of donut.

Angel looked down, and something that looked a little like guilt flashed across his features. "No. He was a guy. Ex-lawyer."

"Isn't Lindsey a girl's name though?"

"You'll have to ask his parents."

"Focus here," Buffy suggested from the end of the table. Bill glanced at the end of the table. They didn't know the people Angel had named, or else they just didn't like them, because none of them looked particularly hurt, unlike the vampire and Illyria.

"Right." The expression fled from Angel's face and he looked neutral again. "We destroyed the members of The Circle of the Black Thorn, each going for a certain member. It was the last time we saw Lorne, Lindsey, or Wesley. Lindsey and Wes died. Lorne is...somewhere."

"Wesley died bravely," Illyria remarked, staring at the table.

"You," the vampire nodded his head towards Bill, "went after the members of a group of demons called the Fell Brethren. When the survivors met in an alley, the place we had agreed on, the Senior Partners made sure that hell broke loose. Giant demons, dragons-"

"It was like something out of _Lord of the Rings_," Andrew chimed in helpfully.

"Wait, when were you there?" Bill asked the boy, feeling the old, familiar confusion coming back hard.

"We were losing the battle," Angel continued, like Andrew had never spoken. "Gunn had fallen and the three of us were surrounded. That's when they showed up," Angel nodded towards the Scooby Gang at the other end of the table, "with an army of Slayers. It's the only reason we survived. When the last demon fell, there was a flash of light and you...you were gone."

"Gone?" Bill squeaked embarrassingly.

"It took us a while to figure out what had happened," the vampire admitted. "Finally, I checked the messages on my answering machine in my old hotel. There was one from the Powers That Be, explaining what had happened."

"Wait, the beings or whatever who control everything _called_ you and left a _message_?" The blonde was somewhat incredulous.

"Actually," Xander chuckled darkly, "Cordelia called and left a message."

"Who's Cordelia?" _They're doing this to annoy me._

"Another dead friend," Angel muttered tersely. "It got our attention."

TBC


	6. Close Friends, Closer Enemies

Rating: PG-13

Feedback: Yes please

Disclaimer: I own nothing, Joss is king.

A/N: Italics indicate Bill's thoughts. This is the second part of chapter 5, but we can just call it chapter 6

Chapter 6

"Okay," Bill said, trying to summarize the past day into something he could start to understand. "So, I just vanished into a puff of light. Have you been trying to find me all this time?"

"It took us two months and three days to find you living in Rhode Island with no memory of what you had been," Giles informed the blonde man, straightening his glasses as he spoke. "We quickly realized that your 'amnesia' was real, and you honestly believed that you were William Bloody-"

"Pronounced 'bluh-day'." For most of his life, Bill had dealt with teachers and telemarketers squinting at his name and stammering around it. _Is there truly no escape?_

Giles scowled at him. Apparently, the British man didn't like to be interrupted. "We decided the best course of action was to let you be, let you live out your life. And we did, for about a year. Did, er, did anything unusual happen to you this past year?"

"I tripped on something and got a concussion," Bill shrugged. "The people at the hospital were really nice. Got a date with the nurse."

"Did you get knocked unconscious so often that it was some sort of running joke?" Giles asked. Bill shook his head. "Then stop complaining."

"What happened with the nurse?" Buffy asked, chair swiveling towards the blonde man.

"She had twelve cats."

"Guys. Make with the focusing," Willow suggested. She turned to Bill. "Then we found out about the Senior Partners. We have magickal sensors all over the world, and the evil energy was off the charts. The only time we'd ever seen anything like it was when the Senior Partners made their move in L.A. the first time."

"We broke into the Roman branch of Wolfram and Hart," Angel added. "Seemed like a good idea. We found a file on you. They were watching you, monitoring your movements. They were going to capture you, Bill. Do tests. Kill you, eventually."

Bill felt the blood drain from his face and the bile rise in his throat. Kill him. People he didn't know, had never met, could never affect, planned to kill him. "Why..." he swallowed, "what do they want from me?"

"The Circle of the Black Thorn was not a group well at ease with itself, despite the image it projected to outsiders." Apparently, Giles was the one who knew about all things supernatural. "Each member played their own part in the Apocalypse, and kept their powers a secret from the other members."

"And?" Bill was trying to find the point.

"You went after the Fell Brethren," Angel summarized. "And while you were there, you learned the secret of their powers, God knows how. The Senior Partners are trying to recreate the Apocalypse. They need that secret."

"But I don't even know what the secret is anymore!" Bill protested. _Are they frigging serious?! _"They know that right? Right?!"

"Bill," Willow said apologetically, "what was done to your memory was done by magick. And if it was done by magick, there's a safe bet it can be reversed by magick."

"And they'll find the way to reverse it," Buffy added. "We've done some research on this guy, and combined with what Angel and Illyria know, it's all bad. They'll make you remember. However they have to."

"And you guys are going to do what about it?" the blonde man asked. "I mean, no offense, Angel's very threatening and the donuts are very good, but what can you do to keep these people away from me. You beat them once. Can you guarantee a repeat performance?"

"We won't have to," Buffy said brightly, flipping her blonde hair behind her shoulder. "You're going to stop them."

Bill blinked. "Really? How? By throwing rocks and taunting them?"

Willow smiled. "That's where I come in. I'll try and reverse the magick they did on you, to make you remember. It shouldn't make you a vampire again though."

"She the most bad-ass Wicca in the Western Hemisphere," Xander chimed in, reaching for another donut. "If anyone can do it, Willow can."

"And in the mean time, we'll see if we can stir up any residual memories," the Slayer said. "See if you remember how to fight, show you pictures of what you knew, things like that."

"What if I don't want to fight?" Bill asked quietly, before he could stop himself. The entire room went silent, without the sounds of donuts being munched or chairs begin swiveled. Bill began to redden under the intense scrutiny of everyone in the room.

"You will," Buffy said simply. Bill nodded and didn't say another word.

"Why don't you go back to your room?" Dawn suggested. And very suddenly, Bill wanted to. He wanted to be far away from this room and these people. He wanted to go home. But he had no idea where that was anymore.

On his way back down, alone, Bill stopped on the staircase when he heard Buffy's voice say 'Spike'. He looked around, but saw no sign of her. He heard another voice, Xander's this time, asking if the sprinkles were gone. The blonde man was becoming increasingly annoyed until he looked up. There was a ventilation duct directly above him, and apparently it connected to the conference room. Bill stepped down a step, and the voices faded. He stepped back up and heard the voices. Another step up, and the voices faded. The blonde stood back on what he quickly dubbed the Voice Step. Somehow, the acoustics of the building gave this one particular location an ear into the conference room. _Have to keep that in mind._

Back in his room, Bill fell asleep in his bed. And fell straight onto a cold, stone floor. Picking himself up and feeling his bruised cheek, the blonde man muttered, "Ow", and looked around. The room was sparsely furnished and looked unkempt. There were shattered bits of a statue along one wall and the large fireplace was filled with ash. There were cobwebs lining the walls and furniture. A large, person-in-fetal-position shaped scorch mark was on one section of the floor. "What the hell?" Bill coughed.

"Interesting phrasing," commented an amused voice from behind. Bill whirled to see Angelus, complete with long black coat and leather pants. He had a normal human face this time.

"Oh God, not you," the blonde man groaned.

Angelus chuckled. "If I had a nickel for every time I'd heard that."

"What do you want this time, huh?" Bill spread his arms wide. "Smack me around indoors?"

"Will, I'm only going to hit you if I feel you deserve it," the vampire smiled amiably. "Which you might within the next twenty seconds or so. Be on your toes."

"The name's Bill, jackass." The blonde was getting tired of this already. Fatigue could've explained why he never even _saw_ the punch and was quite surprised when he ended up facedown on the ground, cheek throbbing.

"I told you you'd probably deserve it in the next twenty seconds," Angelus commented from above him. Bill staggered to his feet and glared at the vampire.

"That was the cheek I fell on."

"I could hit the other one, to even it up." Bill lunged at the vampire, going for a quick, calculated punch that would knock the sense out of Angelus, giving Bill enough time to try and get his bearings. The dark-haired vampire caught the punch with embarrassing ease and whirled Bill around until the blonde man's back was pressed hard against Angelus's front. Bill tried to jerk his arms free from where they were trapped behind his back, but Angelus didn't even flinch. Finally, Bill stopped struggling.

"Y'know," Angelus commented, resting his chin on the smaller man's shoulder, "now that you're human, it's not even fun anymore."

"On second thought, Will's fine," the blonde man conceded, anxious to be released. Having a vampire this close to his neck was making him edgy, even if this was just some sort of dream/hallucination. "It's what my mom calls me."

"She's not your mom," the vampire snorted. "Some arm-twisting and memory-raping got the both of you to _think_ that she was the one that popped you out. You killed your real mom."

"What?!" _That may be one of the single most disturbing pieces of information I've ever heard._

"Oh yeah," Angelus said brightly. "You were turned and your mom was dying of some disease or some other unnecessarily poignant problem like that. You turned her, but when she woke she tried to have sex you, and you staked her. Apparently, you just wanted to be friends." _Like Jerry Springer, only with death._

"Let me go," Bill snapped.

"Will you quit acting like a lunatic?"

"Yes."

"All righty then." Bill was released from the hold and turned to face Angelus, who smiled and gestured to the haunted-looking mansion they were in. "Like it? It's the Crawford Street mansion in Sunnydale. Of course, Sunnydale really isn't there anymore, so we'll just have to use our imaginations. I feel at home here. The Hell scorch mark isn't all that comforting, but I can't get rid of it."

"Why am I here?" the blonde asked, still wary of the vampire.

"To be shown," the vampire answered. "What you need to see."

"And what's that?" Bill sneered. Angelus grabbed him suddenly, their faces very close together. Suddenly, the world shifted and Bill wasn't in the mansion anymore. He was standing in a darkened hallway, where a younger version of Buffy was talking to somebody. Somebody wearing his leather duster with bleached hair. Buffy and the bleached guy began to fight.

"Is that..." Bill gulped. "Me?"

"Yes," Angelus answered. "The first time you and Buff ever met. You were trying to kill her. She was trying to kill you right back." Suddenly, Spike turned and Bill was face to face with ridges, yellow eyes, and fangs. The blonde man yelped and leaped back. "I want to leave!"

"Fine," the dark-haired vampire acquiesced. "How about this?" Now they were in a church looking place where thing were in a state of complete chaos. Amidst all the fire and fighting, Buffy and Spike were once again locked in combat. Bill watched mutely as the blonde Slayer sent an organ crashing down on Spike, who was carrying a dark-haired pale woman. Angel was tied to a post nearby.

"You were trying to restore Drusilla, the crazy girl that was the love of your unlife. That organ crash stuck you in a wheelchair." Angelus seemed nostalgic.

More scenes of fighting with Buffy, some clearly before the organ, some obviously after, in warehouses and streets and then once in the daylight, punches and kicks and hate. Until it stopped and Buffy and Spike walked down the street together. Sat and talked together. Then...they began to do other things. Bill's eyes widened and his jaw dropped.

"Buffy?"

"Yes."

"...With me?"

"Uh-huh."

"While I was a..."

"Buffy likes her men dead and old. Angel got her virginity. You got almost everything else. When you teamed up the Scooby Gang, you became someone she could at least talk to. Then you became pathetically obsessed with her. Started doing the horizontal dance after she was brought back from Heaven. Gotta say Will, way to take advantage." Angelus actually did look impressed, which made Bill slightly nauseous.

Then the scene flashed to a bathroom, with Buffy in a robe, where Spike was quite clearly trying to rape her. "What the hell is this?!" Bill screamed.

"This you after she broke up with you. She kicked your ass and you went to get yourself a soul." Angelus sneered at him now. "See William, you loved her. But that's not new. Xander loved her. Angel loved her. She loved Angel right back, and they had their mushy, gooey-eyed romance. That's the one thing you didn't get. You never got her to love you enough to want to save you when you had to die for the cause."

"So what?" Bill snarled. "What does that have to do with anything."

"Well Smart One," Angelus paused and they returned to the mansion. Bill was glad. "You have Buffy, who loved you, but not enough to save you. You have Xander, who's insanely protective and has been stood up for not one, but two vampires. And then you have the Dark Avenger himself. You stole his girl, you stole his Shanshu. This guy did not have much to live for to begin with. I'm amazed he didn't kill you."

"Angel's different from the others," Bill argued. "He's an outsider, from the Scoobies. He understands more."

"You have a point there," Angelus agreed. "Soul has a way of surprising some people. But it won't save you." The vampire smiled ruthlessly. "Dawn threatened to set you on fire if you touched her sister again. Willow already killed a man once, she wouldn't have a problem wasting you too. Giles tried to get someone to kill you, and almost succeeded. Andrew will do whatever the Scoobies tell him, just to get a scrap of their acceptance. Illyria might stick up for you though." Angelus gave him the thumbs-up sign. "Go Team Bill!"

"Why are you telling me this? Where are you from?" Bill felt numb. Nauseous. Afraid.

"You have to know," Angelus said, suddenly serious. "These people aren't your friends. They'll kill you again if they have to."

"You're lying," the blonde whispered. _Can't be real. Can't be true._

Angelus snorted and shook his head. "Keep your eyes open, Billy Boy. You'll see what I mean. And as for where I'm from..." the vampire cocked his head to the side. "I could tell you that I've been sent from the Powers That Be, that I'm two parts Angelus and one part your own memory." Scary smile. "But I'm probably lying, and you wouldn't believe me anyway."

"You're wrong," Bill said slowly, firmly. "About the others. They're my friends."

"Eyes open. And duck when you get punched." Bill woke up. It was 3:30 in the morning, and he wondered where his sanity had gone.


	7. The Truth, or Something Like It

Rating:PG-13 for language

Feedback: Yes please

Disclaimer: I own nothing and make no money. Joss is King.

A/N: _Italics_ indicate Bill's thoughts.

Chapter 7

_Damn whoever programs early morning TV._ Bill had been watching the idiot box since his Angelus-induced nightmares, for four straight hours, and was getting sick of miracle diets and super blender infomercials, coupled with TV evangelists screaming about how everyone was going to Hell except for them.

It was 7:30 when Andrew finally found him, flipping through the TV channels in the lobby, which housed the only TV he could find. The receptionist wasn't even there yet.

"Spike," the blonde boy asked, slightly confused. "What are you doing out here?"

"Watching TV," responded Bill absently, not breaking eye contact with the television screen. "I couldn't really sleep. What about you? You don't strike me as an early riser."

"Oh, well the Scoobies and Angel are having a meeting. I'm getting the donuts and finding you." Bill wondered if Andrew ever felt a little unappreciated, being the errand boy. He seemed good-natured enough, even if he was a little annoying sometimes.

_Hey, what could it hurt to ask?_ "Do you ever get tired of always getting the donuts?"

Andrew looked a little surprised and answered cautiously, "Well, um, Xander used to get the donuts, before I joined the group. Or so I'm told. But, I don't really mind or anything." The boy gave a weak chuckle. "Work is work, y'know?"

Bill was in the process of nodding when it hit him. He had last seen his apartment on Wednesday, right after coming home from work. Since then, he hadn't set foot in his office for two whole days. Three, if he counted today.

"Oh hell!" Bill gasped, leaping past an alarmed Andrew, going for the phone on the receptionist's desk.

"What's the matter?" the boy asked.

The blonde man stared at Andrew for a moment, Angelus's words echoing through his head. Don't trust them. Not his friends. _So, do I listen to the people who hijacked my life, or to the scary, painful Irish guy in my head?_ "Nothing's wrong," Bill soothed. It wasn't like he completely trusted Angelus, but it couldn't hurt to take some warnings to heart. Right? "Go along. Get your donuts. Tell the others I'll be a little late though."

"Okaaay...meeting's in the conference room," Andrew muttered, turning and walking down the hall. Bill waited until the footsteps had faded before he dove for the phone. Time for damage control, so that after he saved the world (_God, how often does anyone end up thinking _that) he'd still have a job to go back to. The blonde was halfway through dialing the number of his office before he had a thought. Best to test the waters first. Bill dialed the office, then Drew's extension. His friend, who their sadistic boss Mr. Haddon inevitably forced to work Saturdays, would tell him the story.

"Hello?" Drew sounded wary. He didn't get called a lot. "This is Drew Jansen speaking."

"Drew, man, it's good to hear you," Bill sighed. And it was. The blonde man had never realized how important the shaggy-headed Drew was as a friend, but he was getting a reality check now. Three days of people telling him that he was someone that he knew he wasn't was starting to fray at his nerves. _Not Spike. At least, not anymore._ In fact, Bill was starting to resent his vampire alter ego for getting him into this mess, which might be silly and stupid, but was still true. Plus, when everyone was constantly telling him what and who he was, Bill had to wonder if maybe _they_ were right and _he_ was wrong. Which meant that everything he knew and held dear was, inevitably, worthless.

"Bill?!" Drew gasped. "Jesus, man, where have you been? Haddon's already planning out how he's gonna go medieval on your ass the minute you set foot back in the building."

"So he's mad?" Bill asked, unnecessarily.

"Where've you been?"

For about half a second, Bill considered telling the truth. _No. No need to tell the insane truth when you can make up a convincing lie._ "Uh, I've been sick." No one ever said the lie had to be original.

"Why didn't you call in?" Drew sounded almost suspicious.

"My phone didn't work."

"Seems fine now."

"Yeah," Bill laughed weakly, "those wacky phones. Anyway, just wanted to get a damage report. See you later, man."

After a brief conversation with his boss, where Haddon mostly shouted and Bill mostly lied, the blonde was on his way. He'd tell the Scoobies that he had to go in on Monday. It's not like the Wolfram and Hart guys would attack him in his office. While on his way to the conference room, Bill stepped on the Voice Step. And heard the words 'Kill Bill.'

_So this is it_, Bill thought as he stood on the step, staring at the air vent that led to the room where the people he hardly knew were gathered. _Listen to the conversation, and know that deep down inside, I can't ever trust them. Or keep walking. They could be talking about the movie, right? _It came down to trust. Maybe Angel and the Scoobies weren't out to get him hurt, deliberately anyway, but did they really have his best interests in mind? Bill thought back to the last few days, to coming home to find his apartment filled with strangers, to being threatened/coerced into coming the Watcher's Council Headquarters, being told who he was. Angel and cigarette burns. Angelus and leather dusters. Xander cornering him in the hallway and telling him to stay away from a girl he hardly even knew. The Scoobies telling him that he was going to fight and was going to like it.

"Screw this," the blonde man muttered. "If I'm going down, my eyes are gonna be open." He flashed back to Angelus telling him to keep his eyes open. _Kudos, you frightening bastard, you. I've become paranoid._ Bill stood on the Voice Step and listened to a conversation that he was never supposed to hear.

"Are we sure that the magicks can undo it, Will?" Buffy was asking. "This is some heavy-duty stuff."

"I can do it, but it's like I was saying, it might not be a good idea to try," the redhead worried. _Try what?_

"Look, why is it even an issue? There's no proof that he's anything but Spike with a heartbeat and a messed up memory," Xander protested. _Their voices sound strange. The air conditioning duct must distort things,_ the blonde man thought idly. Things were distorted enough as it was.

"It's not a simple solution, Xander," Giles explained, in his stammering, British way. "Memory is tricky and not entirely safe to fool around with. If something goes wrong, Spike could end up with no memory at all. There's a chance that he could end up comatose."

"Yeah, if something goes wrong. That's why we'll all be careful," Xander said dismissively.

"Yes, well, there's also Angel's theory to consider," the Watcher added.

"Sure, let's all listen to Deadboy," the dark-haired man snorted.

"It's a possibility," commented the voice that belonged to Angel. So the vampire was in there with them. Bill assumed that Andrew was there and just not speaking up, but he hadn't heard a word from Dawn or Illyria. Maybe they were both elsewhere.

"Angel, I hate to say it, but we need more proof to stop us from trying," said Buffy, apologetically.

"Look," the vampire sighed, "he's had his memory completely altered, but somewhere inside, he remembers what it is to be a demon."

"How do _you _know?" Ah, there was Andrew.

"Because I felt the same way." The vampire sounded irritated. "Even though I have a soul, I still want blood. The impulses and urges are still there."

"But he's human now," Willow protested.

"All the Powers That Be did was start up his heart and kick the demon out. They gave him a new memory, but he still has the same mind. Spike's body still remembers fighting and killing. The residual memories are coming back, even though they aren't supposed to. They didn't do a good enough job."

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean he has some kind of demon split personality," Xander argued, derisive. So that's what Angel's theory was. That Bill was some kind of ticking time bomb with a demon lurking where no one could see it. "Giles, you're with me on this, right?"

"Well, theoretically, it might be a possibility," the British man admitted. "Bill is, mentally at least, a completely different person from Spike. In bringing back Spike, we may destroy Bill." The blonde man's stomach churned and he clutched at the stair railing.

"But, following that line of thinking, wouldn't that mean that Bill wasn't even, you know, real?" Willow asked hesitantly.

"Spike would want to save the world, and Spike is the one who he was for most of his life," Buffy said bluntly. "Not that I think Bill is a different person than Spike but...we've all made hard decisions. Spike would want us to save the world."

The others agreed, some more grudgingly than others. "Where is Spike anyway?" Angel asked.

"I don't know," Andrew answered. "Last time I saw him, he was in the lobby. He said he'd be a little late."

Bill didn't want to listen anymore. He walked down the stairs, away from the conference room and to the nearest bathroom. The blonde man locked the stall door and threw up until he was dry heaving, leaning against the sterile-looking toilet and fighting off hysteria. "Oh God," he muttered, again and again. _You were right Angelus. You were really, _really _right._

He didn't really know where he was going when he left the bathroom, and wound up wandering the lower levels. All that Bill knew was that he wanted to be as far away from those people upstairs as he could be. Which is why, when he saw Illyria in a training room filled with punching bags and dummies, Bill had a brilliant idea.

"Illyria!" the blonde yelled as he threw open the doors to the room. The demon was, as always, human looking.

"Spike," she greeted, voice its normal tone of neutral. "Why are you here?"

"Just wondering something. Do you like it here? This place, these people?"

Illyria cocked her head to the side and stared at the walls and ceiling. Even if Bill hadn't been told that Illyria wasn't human, he'd have known then. Humans didn't look at their surroundings when asked whether or not they liked where they were in life. They answered from the heart. This demon in human's clothing couldn't.

"I cannot breathe here," she admitted after a moment of consideration. "It feels like I am trapped. This world is not what I knew it to be in the days when I ruled. It is not even what I knew it to be a year before now. Wesley is gone, as is the brown human, Gunn, who I enjoyed looking at. The green demon fled, taking the coward's way out. But I remain, a strange sort of prisoner."

"Why do you stay then?" Bill asked, needing to know if he could depend on this demon.

"When you disappeared," Illyria began, focusing her cold gaze on the human, "the army of Vampire Slayers would have slaughtered me as surely as they had slaughtered the demons we fought. Angel prevented them from doing so and in the aftermath of battle, when we discovered you had devolved, become human, there was a quite moment. The vampire and I were alone on the roof of his old building, looking at the carcasses of demons. Gunn's corpse had already been removed, for some sort of human burial rite, and..." she shook her head, looking perplexed. "I felt grief. Moisture in my eyes. Angel looked at me, and he too had moisture in his eyes. This confused me. He explained that the moisture was how the humans expressed pain. He took my hand in his own. It was strange but I by this gesture. We did not speak, for we knew that there were no words."

"You understand each other," Bill translated. Time for the offer. "If I asked you to come with me, see some new places, would you go?"

The demon seemed to consider. "You once told me that I should 'get out more.' I believe you were implying that I knew nothing of the outside world."

"Would you like to see it? And maybe, you know, protect me from demons?" The macho part of Bill chafed upon asking someone who looked like a twiggy girl to save him, but it was not the ideal time for pride.

"You have the look of the hunted," Illyria observed. "Are you running from something?"

"You could say that," Bill agreed. "Wanna come with me? I swear I'll explain everything once we get my car."

"I shall do this," Illyria granted, nodding her head. Bill could've collapsed with relief. He could escape from the Senior Partners _and_ the Scoobies. Illyria would protect him from anything that came calling. He'd be safe, eventually. Maybe they'd go up to Canada.

"Spike?" Buffy's voice questioned from behind him. Bill whirled around to see Andrew, Giles, Xander, Willow, Buffy, and Angel standing in the doors. Now Bill felt like he would collapse for a whole different reason.


	8. When Things Go Bad

Rating: PG-13 

Feedback: Yes please.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Joss is king.

A/N: _Italics_ indicate Bill's thoughts.

Chapter 8

Bill felt like he couldn't breathe. In the tenth grade, he had watched a classmate have an asthma attack, gasping for air and panicking and turning purple. The blond man felt like doing that now. _No. Oh God, no. _

"Bill, are you all right?" Buffy asked, looking worried. _Pull it together,_ the blonde told himself sternly.

"Oh, sure. I'm fine." Bill tried to smile reassuringly. "Just hanging with Illyria."

"Hanging?" the demon asked, confused looking.

"There was a meeting," Giles said. He glanced at Andrew. "Andrew was supposed to tell you."

"I did!" the boy protested, looking hurt.

"Yeah, sorry," the apology tumbled from Bill's lips. "I, uh, forgot. Was talking to Illyria." _Because she wasn't in a room discussing whether or not I was real. And she certainly didn't agree that if I wasn't, killing me wouldn't be a problem._

"We kinda need you up there," Willow said apologetically.

_Okay. Time for the moment of truth. Be a man._ "About that," Bill took a deep breath. "I, um, I don't think I should stay here."

No one misinterpreted this to mean that Bill wanted to stay at a Holiday Inn. "What are you talking about?" Xander asked, but they all knew. The entire group seemed to move themselves to completely block the only way out of the room.

"Look, it was good of you guys to tell me about all of this, my past and everything, but I need to go back to my life. I've missed two days of work already and the boss is looking to kill. Plus…this is all a little too strange. I have to leave." The looks in their eyes were making Bill afraid. He had to make them believe that it would be better if he were away. "Illyria could come with me and be my bodyguard, or whatever you want to call it. I could come here on weekends or something but…I have to leave."

There was a moment of complete silence. Like floating in a void, empty of everything. Bill felt like the fluorescent lights had suddenly cranked up their temperature and were beating down on him like the sun on a hot summer's day. In the Sahara Desert.

"You can't," Angel said simply. The others didn't add anything to it. In that moment, Bill knew that these people were not going to let go of him.

"I have to."

"Too bad," commented Xander.

"This is kidnapping." Not that Bill thought it would sway them, he just felt it was a good point to make. Andrew, to his credit, looked ashamed. The blonde man felt Illyria's presence behind him, but knew instinctively that she wouldn't attack the Scoobies and Angel. She didn't understand what Bill was fighting for.

"We're not too afraid," Xander, who was closest to Bill, informed him, making a move to grab the blonde man. That was Bill's cue. From the same place where memories lived and Angelus spoke, a century of fighting ability rose up inside of Bill, and the violence began.

He closed the distance between Xander and himself and drove a knee into the brunette's groin. While the Scooby gasped in pain, Bill backfisted him on the eye patch side of the head. Xander went down hard and Bill whirled to face the others. Both Buffy and Angel were diving for him. Willow's eyes had gone black and sparks were crackling at her fingers. Giles was reaching for something hanging at his belt while his other hand grabbed for an axe hanging on the wall. Andrew looked dumbfounded and Illyria looked confused.

_Buffy will hesitate, because I'm human and she loved me_. Bill was positive of it, though he wasn't sure how. _Angel's the one I need to watch out for._

So Bill ran at Buffy who, just like he'd predicted, hesitated before swinging a fist at him. That was all the time Bill needed to duck around her and throw himself through the double doors. Adrenaline made him stronger and faster and he tore down the hall, feet barely touching the floor. _Have to get out_, he thought, not even caring that he had no idea where to go. Bill had to be far away from this place. He felt…hunted.

As fast as Bill was going, it didn't matter. He was just a human. Angel was a vampire who had spent two hundred plus years hunting down just about everything, and later on Bill would reflect that he never even had a chance. Although when Angel caught up to him without a huge amount of effort and threw Bill to the ground, all the blonde man could think was, _Ow._

"Nice try, Spike," Angel commented as he hauled Bill to his feet and pressed him up against the wall. "But you aren't getting out of this."

It was like something deep inside Bill had cracked open. All the confusion and fear and helplessness that had been clouding his mind since he stepped into his apartment three days ago lifted to tell him what he already suspected: they did not see the difference between Bill and Spike. That didn't mean there wasn't one. "I AM NOT SPIKE!" Bill screamed into Angel's face, startling the vampire into letting go of his arms. "I AM NOT A VAMPIRE AND I AM NOT YOUR GODDAMN CHAMPION, YOU SELFISH, STUPID, HAIR-GELLED BASTARD!" It felt like some huge weight had been lifted off Bill's shoulders because, even if they forced him to stay here and save the world and whatever else they expected him to do, he did not have to be Spike, Vampire with a Soul. He had no one's standards to live up to but his own.

Angel stared at him for a moment, dark eyes unreadable. "I know," the vampire commented finally, startling Bill. "But it doesn't matter." The others were beginning to pour out of the training room towards what had once been two evil vampires, and Bill could hear what was probably security personnel running down the stairs. _Giles must have been reaching for his cell phone,_ the blonde man thought. But he wasn't really focused on any of that. Because Angel was still talking.

"You know why it doesn't matter William?" the vampire with a soul asked, getting very close to Bill's face.

"Enlighten me, hero," Bill spat, feeling that once upon a time they had had this conversation before. 'Hero'. Spike had once called Angel that. And while Bill didn't have to be Spike, it wouldn't hurt to have his power.

"Because it doesn't matter who you love, or how many epiphanies you get, or what kind of miracle happens to you. The deals you sign and the people you hurt? That's the only thing that ever matters. You never get to escape the things you've done." Angel wasn't talking to Bill now, or at least, not completely. "Nobody ever gets redemption. Nobody ever gets a second chance, not really."

"Maybe you're wrong," Bill suggested.

The vampire's eyes focused on him again. "And maybe I'm not." The Scooby Gang and Illyria arrived, as did security, and Angel asked, "So you're not coming quietly, I guess."

"Bite me," Bill snarled. Which could have been why Angel punched him in the face so hard that Bill saw a flash of stars and then nothing. Or maybe it might have been to avoid watching overweight security guards taser Bill into submission. He'd ask later.

The blonde was lying on pavement, feeling it's rough texture dig into his cheek. "'Least I'm not falling," Bill groaned as he sat up stiffly. He was beginning to get used to losing consciousness and winding up in a different world. This particular world was the familiar L.A. street.

A hand stuck itself into Bill's field of view. He looked up to see Angelus standing there, in the usual outfit, human face looking surprisingly serious. The blonde silently took the offered hand and dusted himself off.

"Just can't keep the sarcasm in, can you?" Angelus commented, hands back in the pockets of his coat.

"You were right," Bill told him, not in the mood for the normal verbal sparring match. "About everything."

"I tend to be."

"What am I supposed to do?" the distraught man asked. He felt an odd urge to eat, as if the process of ingesting and digesting might somehow make everything all better. Bill walked over to a park bench and sat down. Angelus followed him, but made no move to sit.

"Well, I think you've clearly seen that the 'I don't think we're right for each other, but let's keep in touch' method was a bust." The vampire allowed a small smirk to creep on his face when Bill rubbed his cheek.

"Yeah. Was it really necessary for Angel to hit me?"

Angelus chuckled. "I think that was him getting a petty form of revenge. You know, for stealing his dreams and everything. He's pathetic. You'll get used to it."

Normally, Bill would have jumped at the chance to insult the guy who'd knocked him completely unconscious. But this was not normal. "I can't…I can't pretend to go along with everything while they rearrange my life. Not anymore."

Angelus sat down next to Bill, looking relaxed. "The way I see it, you have two options. Option One: You kill them all, either systematically or in one fell swoop."

"No." Bill didn't like most of the people in his life, but he didn't hate them that much.

"Really?" the vampire looked disappointed. "Because I had a great idea for what you could do to Buffy."

"Let's go with the one that doesn't get me arrested. Which is?"

"You go with it."

"WHAT?!" Bill exploded off the bench. "That's your brilliant advice? 'Kill them or go with it'! What the hell kind of hallucination thing are you?!" It had been a bad day.

Angelus seemed amused and chuckled, "Feeling just a little high-strung, huh William?" At Bill's venomous glare, the vampire rolled his eyes and added, "You didn't let me finish, Blondie. You really don't have a choice. You're too weak and puny now to be able to fight your way out of it, and not smart enough to avoid both the White Hats and the Senior Partners forever."

"But I don't want to be a vampire!" the blonde man protested. "I don't want to save the world. I just want to go home."

Angelus sneered, "Tough. There comes a point in time when you can't ever go home again. Looks like you've reached yours."

"Oh, what the hell would you know about it?" Bill sulked. He didn't need this crap from something that wasn't even real.

The humor faded from the vampire's face, replaced by something mean and cold. "Plenty. Getting a soul means that you never have a home again, whether or not you lose it afterwards."

"How so?" Bill was curious despite himself.

"You never get your life back. You lose the people that you used to depend on. Being trapped beneath all that brooding goodness drives you off the deep end. Even if you do regain control, you never know when some Gypsies or Soulboy's friends are going to come along and shove the soul right back down your throat." Angelus seemed strangely saddened by this.

"But you're evil. You completely deserved it," the blonde man pointed out.

Angelus glanced at him and asked, "You really don't understand the term 'Biting the hand that feeds you', do you?"

_This is pointless_. "So what? I wake up and do what I would've done if I hadn't overheard the little conference room chat?"

The vampire seemed exasperated. "No, idiot, you don't. Don't just bend over for them and let them have their way with you. Know what they're doing to you and why. Believe it or not, they are the good guys. They have some vague concern you, even if it's almost nonexistent. Use your brain, which theoretically, you have."

"You're oddly helpful, for an abusive dream person," the blonde man observed.

Angelus rolled his eyes and stood up. "Gee. Thanks."

Bill awoke in his room, chained to a bed. That was never a good sign.


	9. And What Happens After

Rating:PG-13 

Feedback: Pretty please?

Disclaimer: I own nothing, Joss is king

A/N: Italics indicate Bill's thoughts. By the way, if you have never seen the movie _Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory_ then 1) where have _you_ been? And 2) A small chunk of this will make no sense to you whatsoever. Not that you shouldn't read this. By all means, stay. Write and tell me about your confusion. Who says I can't grovel well?

Chapter 9 

Bill instinctively struggled against the chains around his ankles and wrists, writhing and thrashing frantically. He succeeded in doing nothing except severely chafing his wrists and bunching his pant legs around the ankle cuffs. But it didn't matter. The blonde would keep trying if he had to rub his wrists raw and bloody.

It didn't come to that. About five minutes after Bill woke up, a dark-haired head belonging to Xander poked itself into the room. The one-eyed man stared at him for a moment, but the Scooby left quickly, before Bill even had time to form a question. Less than two minutes later, the entire group, minus Illyria, that had been there for Bill's spectacular escape attempt had assembled. Willow was carrying a bag filled with something, causingBillto become slightly more nervous than he already was.

"So," Buffy looked him up and down, "how do you feel?"

"Like I got punched in the face by a neurotic vampire," Bill snapped. Angel's semi-permanent scowl became slightly deeper.

"That was a bad idea, trying to escape," Willow commented, starting to take candles and some kind of powder out of the bag. "We had to keep you here."

"If you had left, the Senior Partners would have found you," Giles took up where Willow had left off. "What they did to you would make being punched in the face by Angel a pleasant memory by comparison."

"So what exactly is the difference between you freaks and the Senior Partners?" sneered Bill, more to cause trouble than out of any real curiosity. "Either way, I'm a prisoner."

"You're not a prisoner. You're in protective custody," Angel explained, like he was talking to a small, particularly slow child. As the vampire was talking, Willow had leaned over Bill and began sprinkling the powder on the side of the bed nearest to the wall.

"Oh yeah? How many people besides prisoners get chained to beds?" the blonde man challenged. The entire room glanced at one another suspiciously. Bill quickly amended, "Okay, some people get chained to beds, which is fine, whatever, as long as they _want_ to be chained." His voice rose to an angry shout. "But guess what? I DON'T WANT TO BE CHAINED UP!"

"We should gag him," suggested Xander. Bill began to renew his struggles and clenched his lips together tightly.

"Stop, you're just going to rub the skin off," Angel ordered.

"Screw you."

"Be quiet, both of you," Willow snapped. In his anger at everyone, Bill hadn't noticed that the redheaded witch had spread the powder in a rough oval around him and had lit a candle. She added, "Please. I need to concentrate."

"Concentrate on what?" Bill asked, outraged. "If you think for a second that I'm just going to-"

"Get the gag," ordered Giles with a sigh.

"No," Bill said quickly. He closed his mouth and glowered at them. His attention was quickly drawn to Willow, whose eyes were closed as she chanted some strange language that Bill couldn't even begin to identify. The candle flame began flickering due some strange wind that had sprung out of nowhere and whirled around the small room. _Witchcraft,_ Bill thought, unnerved and maybe slightly afraid. _She's doing a spell on me. _The redhead chanted with increasing intensity until the former vampire felt certain that he was about to burst into flames or morph into a rat or something great and dramatic. And then the witch very abruptly stopped.

"Okay," Willow said after a moment. She seemed perfectly calm despite the combination of wind and fire that was making everyone else edge away from the candle. Bill wondered if the slender redhead knew that her eyes were black. "This should take a sec to kick in, and if it works then you should-" If she said anything else, the blonde would never know. Because he was being sent down a long, swirling purple tunnel with a light at the end of it and strange shapes filling the places in between.

Bill had, as a child, been quietly afraid of the movie _Willy Wonka and the_ _Chocolate Factory_, mostly because of his irrational fear of midgets. But Oompaloompas aside, little Bill had been particularly alarmed during the scene when Willy Wonka had made all of his guests board the boat on the chocolate river. Gene Wilder was frightening enough, but combined with the nightmare imagery and deranged lyrics, that scene was disturbing enough to make Bill avoid boats until the age of six, when he figured out that it wasn't real. But that was what the tunnel most reminded the blonde man of. Willy Wonka's boat ride from Hell.

The tunnel was a jet-black color that was interrupted by streaks of purple-and-white lightning, as Bill flew through it, he saw pictures float by, like scenes out of a movie. A well-dressed society woman sitting on a couch that suddenly blended into some sort of demon's face. An old woman who suddenly had a vampire face. A dark-haired woman laughing and bleeding and turning in circles while talking to the stars. Angelus holding his hand in the sunlight and watching it sizzle, whichmelted into a small, cold-looking blonde woman with evil in her eyes. Frenzied people with torches chasing them into a mineshaft. A Chinese woman dead on the floor and lust welling up in his veins while the crazy woman, (Drusilla, he somehow knew) laughed. Buffy and Angel. Horrible white rooms and shooting pain. It became faster and faster, the reel of images. Rome and Prague and New York and Brazil, cities and people and places that led to Sunnydale (because Bill knew deep down what that town was) and Los Angeles, where he walked through walls and dragons roared. And with all this, there was sound. Snippets of conversations in a very familiar voice.

"-William-"

"-Mother, are you-"

"-effulgent-"

"-Yes! I mean-"

"-Drusilla-"

"-Angelus-"

"-You knew she was mine-"

"-Darla-"

"-The name's Spike-"

"-Slayer-"

"-Violate! In succession-"

"-don't speak a word of Chinese-"

"-Ciao-"

"-Home sweet home-"

"-you were my Yoda!-"

"-my black goddess-"

"-it's a big rock-"

"-sorry baby-"

"-blood screaming inside-"

"-love syphilis more than you-"

"-had a trip to the vet and now-"

"-you're just a little bit in love with it-"

"-drowning in you-"

"-Little Bit-"

"-always blood-"

"-Buffy-"

"-love you-"

"-I wanna see how it ends-"

"-Take a long look, hero-"

"-I'm in-" Which is when Bill very jarringly dropped out of the tunnel of insanity and back into reality, where a group of supernaturally-inclined people stared at him in varying degrees of curiosity and alarm.

"Spike?" came Buffy's hesitant voice from somewhere beyond the haze of confusion where Bill was currently residing. "How do you feel?"

"Like I'm coming down from a bad acid trip," the blonde man croaked out.

"He's not British," Andrew stated, sounding disappointed.

"No," Bill snapped, "no I'm not. You got a problem with that?"

"At the moment," came Angel's voice from somewhere above and to the right, "yes."

"Screw all of you, my head hurts." Bill jerked against the chains, forgetting for a moment that his arm was tied down. He sighed and said, "It didn't work."

"We can tell," Willow giggled. She sobered quickly and asked, "What was it like?"

"Like I was watching a movie," the blonde man answered. "I saw pictures, but didn't, um, _know_ them, I guess."

"Okay," the redhead sighed. "We'll have to try something else." She blew out the candle, looking frustrated.

Bill tensed, not sure if he could deal with another mind trip down the creepy whirling tunnel. Willow sensed the blonde man's alarm and said quickly, "But we'll try it later. Give you time to recuperate. Right?"

The group nodded in assent and began to walk out of the room. As hazy as Bill felt, he couldn't help but protest, "Hey! You're not just going to leave me here, are you?"

Giles answered, "We'll be back." Then he too was gone, closing the door behind him.

"Oh goodie," Bill grumbled, trying not to stir up the powder. He wasn't sure what it was, but it couldn't be a wise choice to breathe it in. Lying there, bitterly expecting to be shortchanged, the blonde was pleasantly surprised when Giles came back in, wheeling a cart with a sheet covering something large and square sitting atop it. The door clicked closed behind him.

"I'm assuming that if I unlock your cuffs, you'll be good enough not to try and run?" the British man asked, absently twirling the keys around. Bill nodded his assent and was very shortly sitting up in his bed, rubbing his sore wrists.

"What's up with the sheet?" asked the former vampire, climbing off of his bed.

"We didn't think you would want to sleep on the one covered in powder," the ex-Watcher explained. He reached up and tossed the clean sheet covering the cart towards Bill. And beneath the sheet lay a TV.

"Oh God," Bill gasped, fighting the urge to fall to his knees before the television. "Is this for…for me?"

Giles, in the process of folding up the powder-covered sheet, responded, "Yes. We thought that since you were going to be here a while, we ought to give you something to entertain yourself."

Bill, despite harboring great amounts of resentment for his captors, was oddly touched by this small gesture of kindness. "Thank you."

The British man seemed to sense the reason for Bill's relief. "We're not monsters," Giles said, taking off his glasses to polish them. "We never wanted you to be our prisoner. You are an ally in our fight."

"You tried to have me killed once," Bill pointed out, not overly hostile, considering he didn't remember it.

"That's true, I did." Giles didn't try to deny it, and Bill's opinion of him raised slightly. "But you have proven yourself to be a capable warrior, and I havenever tried it again." Giles squinted at the blonde man. "So you remember that?"

"Not really. I just know that it happened." Bill certainly wasn't going to tell these people about the person inside his head.

"Ah." Giles turned to walk out the door, but paused in the doorway. "I am sorry that this had to happened to you, Bill. It was never our plan to bring you back from the new life that you've earned. It's not fair. But it's the way things work. By the way, _Passions_ is on Channel 12." Then the British man was gone, locking the door from the outside.

Bill stood dumbfounded for a moment. Not even Drew knew of his favorite soap opera. Clearly this was something he and his alter ego shared. Not knowing when he would get the chance to relax again, the blonde sat on his bed and turned on the television, trying to make his mind wander. It didn't work, and Bill had no chance at stopping the questions buzzing in his mind. But the TV did have a way of making everything a little calmer.


	10. Day Eight

Rating: PG-13. Um, some slight, teeny mention of A/S, but really, nothing that isn't cannon. See _A Hole in The World_ and _Power Play_ if you don't believe me.

Feedback: Yes please

Disclaimer: I own nothing, Joss is king

Author's Note: _Italics_ indicate Bill's thoughts. Finals and Christmas are coming, so updating is a bit harder, but I will try as hard as I can

Chapter 10

Five days passed. Five days of being a prisoner to decent, honest, good-guy types who were supposed to _protect_ him, dammit. Every day brought new spells and stranger head-trips. Bill didn't even get the benefit of Angelus-In-His-Head. Now, when Bill slept, his mind was filled with murky half-images and what sounded like the vampire's voice, sometimes. The blonde man suspected Willow had inadvertently caused this while meddling with his memory.

On Day Three, Andrew had stopped by to see him. Bill had been rude, as was his prerogative. In retaliation, or maybe just confession, Andrew had muttered, "It's not like you're the only one they ever kept prisoner."

"Huh?" Bill had asked, curious to know. If there was someone else that the Scoobies and Angel had taken captive, then the blonde man could at least store that information.

Andrew looked down at his sneakers for a moment, and when he looked up, his eyes were filled with pain, something Bill had never associated with the energetic young man. "A few years ago, my friends Warren and Johnathan, and me, of course, tried to be crime lords, rule Sunnydale. Be cool, like a magickal version of _The Godfather_. At least I think that was the plan. It, um, didn't work. Buffy stopped us, and Warren tried to kill Buffy. He did kill Willow's girlfriend Tara, and Willow went all hardcore, like Darth Vader. She killed Warren and tried to kill me and Jonathan, but we escaped down to Mexico. They rehabilitated Willow in England somewhere, and Jonathan and I came back from Mexico 'cause we didn't really speak Mexican, y'know? And then The First, but I thought it was Warren, because it was a shapeshifter and looked just like Warren…" Andrew trailed off and inhaled sharply, pleading with Bill for something unknown.

"What did it make you do?" Bill asked, understanding suddenly that Andrew had something to say, something that he couldn't or didn't want to tell the others.

"I killed Johnathan," Andrew whispered, shaking his head frantically. "I didn't-didn't realize what I'd done, I was just so confused and…I went to Buffy and her friends. They kept me tied up for a while. But it really wasn't all that bad."

"Then I guess you're looking at it through a nice pair of rose-tinted glasses, mate," Bill snapped, annoyed that Andrew was still on the wrong side. "Because from where I'm sitting, being a prisoner sucks in an all-encompassing sort of way."

Andrew then pointed out that Bill had said 'mate', thus using English-English, which is when the blonde man started screaming at him to get out. Andrew hadn't been back since. Now it was Day Eight of knowing The Truth, and Bill was in a considerable bit of agony. Willow's last spell had _hurt_, unlike the other ones. His head was pounding, his stomach was in a state of violent upheaval, and his limbs felt like Jell-O that had been put through a blender. He drew a small speck of comfort from knowing that the spell hadn't been intended to hurt, that something about the firewall the Powers That Be had put around his mind made the magicks go cockeyed. But that wasn't making the pain go away.

Eventually, once the flares in his head stopped being so white-hot and agonizing, Bill settled into a troubled sleep. He kept getting flashes of the street in L.A. that appeared to be some sort of default setting for his mind. Angelus was exerting more effort than was perhaps becoming of a demon of his stature to get a hold of Bill.

"Stupid meddling redheaded bitch!" Angelus raged, during one of the moments when Bill had drifted into L.A. "She just can't leave the sparkly magick alone, can she? No, it's always 'Let's restore his soul! Let's restore him memories! Leave it to me, I know EXACTLY what I'm doing!' The only time she was ever even slightly amusing was when she flayed that guy alive and that little excursion to the Dark Side lasted what, 48 hours? What the hell is wrong with her?!" Bill would have muttered a response, but his fevered brain lost its grip on the street and drifted away, watching an increasingly agitated Angelus fade out like a TV being turned off. The blonde floated in the darkness, feeling nauseous and listening to an oddly familiar voice sing to him, soothing him.

_'Early one morning, just as the sun was shining, I heard a maid sing in the valley below " Oh don't deceive me, oh never leave me, how could you use a fair maiden so?" _

Bill wasn't sure what it was, sensed that it came from his fractured memory. He felt comforted by it, however, and oddly inclined to call his mother. He hovered back onto the street, lying there and watching the constellations whirl considerably faster than they normally did. "Shouldn't be able to see the stars," he slurred. "It's always bright in L.A. Hehe. Always bright in the City of Angels. Angel's City."

"Don't be an idiot," Angelus growled, standing above Bill and look somewhat hazy. "Get a hold of yourself."

"Yeah right," Bill laughed, completely delirious. "It hurts. Just gonna hang here for a while. Hey, do you have any weed with you?"

Angelus squinted at the blonde and muttered, "I knew it."

Bill, fading in and out and feeling more wasted than he had the day after his twenty-first birthday, couldn't quite bring himself to remember where he was or what he was doing there. _Someone standing above me though. Good-looking. Maybe he's an actor? He looks angry. Big furrow in the big forehead._ "Man, I feel like this is a bad trip. Is it? Who're you? Why am I in L.A.? Am I famous?" Bill giggled, somewhere between agonized and stoned.

Leather Pants Man's mouth fell open, and it was a moment before he could snarl, outraged, "I don't believe this! You actually remember _less_ than when you came here! How is that even possible?"

"Got me. I'm just here for the ride." Leather Pants Man shook his head and hauled Bill to his feet, ignoring the blonde's protests.

"Wake up. Jesus, I can't deal with this anymore. I'll try to think of something." And Bill opened his eyes to view the beige walls of his room. He rolled out of bed and staggered to the bathroom, throwing up the contents of last night's dinner into the sink. He stared down at it for a moment, wondering when he had eaten corn. The blonde man sighed and brushed his teeth.

After his bout of nausea, Bill felt considerably better. Until he walked out of the bathroom and found Buffy sitting on his bed. She leaped off the bed quickly and walked over to him. Bill unconsciously took a step back.

"Hey," she greeted, flashing him a hesitant smile. "Are you feeling any better?"

"Yeah. I guess." Bill did not feel like talking to this girl. She made his stomach tie itself in knots. He squinted and looked around the room, realizing something. "How did you know I was awake? Do you have cameras in here?"

Buffy looked perfectly innocent as she responded, "No. We've been looking in on you every half hour. It was my turn, and I noticed you weren't in bed."

"Okay," Bill replied, smelling a lie. He made a mental note to give his room a very thorough examination after the Slayer left. "So, why are you here?"

Buffy shook her head and said, "Bill, we've been thinking about what's been going on. _I've_ been thinking a lot. And you being here, being kept prisoner…it's wigging me out. It shouldn't be like this. You fought for a soul, you fought to become human. We shouldn't have to fight each other." Her pretty face seemed earnest enough, and Bill felt himself begin to soften towards the woman.

"Then let me go."

The Slayer looked remorseful. "We _can't_. That's the thing. Wolfram and Hart are different from The First and Glory and all the other evil we've fought. They're," Buffy seemed to shudder, "_corporate_. And we need to stick together if we're going to fight it."

"It's not like I don't want to stop evil," Bill sighed, sitting down on the bed. "I'm very against evil. It's unpleasant and people die. But I don't know if this is something I can do." He stared at Buffy as she stood over him, looking concerned. "Is it true that you loved me?"

Buffy sat down next the blonde man gently. "I…I loved you. And you died."

"Apparently, that happens a lot here." Bill rolled his shoulders. Buffy was beautiful and strong and reminded him of sunshine. He could smell her and those smells triggered more memory fragments. Dark crypts and the smell of grease. And in addition to all that to the memories of a warm body under his, Bill could feel that each and every memory was tinged with heartache and rage, pain and indignity and craving to be loved.

Uncomfortable with the sudden surge of memory, the blonde man asked Buffy, "Do your friends know you're here?"

The Slayer nodded an affirmative. "Actually, we had sort of a brainstorming session about it. We all want you on the team." Buffy flashed him another bright, sun-in-the-dark smile.

He wanted to believe so badly in this girl and her promise. If he just said yes, all of his troubles would be over. Just say yes…but. But once upon a time, Bill had been a demon named Spike, who had not survived by being a fool. And felt, in his heart of hearts, that there was a trick up the Slayer's skinny sleeves. "What about the magic that you've been using to try and get my memory back? Will you keep trying? Because that last spell hurt like hell."

Buffy hesitated for one split second, and that allowed half the puzzle to click into place in Bill's brain. "Yeah," the blonde woman said apologetically. "We're still sorry about that. And we'll only do the spells if you say we can-er, want to." Click.

"You've run out of spells," Bill accused, getting off the bed, eyes narrowing. "Ones you can do to me without my consent. The only ones you have left are the ones that I'd have to let you do or…or something," Bill's moment of crystal clarity faded as he lost his grip on the Spike-mind. But the flash of guilt on Buffy's face confirmed it. The blonde man wondered, voice cold, "What was it? Did I have to say words, or were you just not willing to take my blood or whatever the spell called for?"

"Spike, it isn't like that," Buffy winced when she heard the name, knowing that she had just secured Bill's answer.

"Go to hell, Slayer," Bill sneered. "I'm not your damn puppet. I'm not your friend."

Buffy stood up, looking serious. Almost scary. Bill stood his ground. "Fine," she said after a moment. "We're gonna have to do this the hard way." The skinny blonde grabbed a hold of Bill and dragged him out the door of his room before he could even form a protest. The former vampire hadn't been expecting this and didn't even bother to struggle. An anorexic-looking bottle blonde was stronger than he could ever be. Bill was half led, half dragged out to the lobby, where Angel of all people sat staring at the TV. The vampire looked surprised as Buffy dragged Bill in.

"Angel, I'm taking Spike to the Graveyard." This did not help Bill's state of confusion, but Angel seemed to understand. "Could you watch him while I get a car?"

"Yeah, okay." The dark-haired vampire did not seem thrilled at the prospect.

"Hey, I don't need a sodding babysitter!" Bill protested indignantly, surprised at how easily the Cockney accent had slipped out. Buffy and Angel stared at him, taken aback.

"That was weird," the Slayer commented.

"Yeah," Angel agreed. With a shake of her head, Buffy went down one of the numerous hallways, leaving Bill alone with the vampire. Their eyes locked, and to his shame, Bill blinked first. The blonde man took a seat at the opposite end of the couch, trying to get comfortable. With Angel eyeing him like a piece of beef jerky, it was not all that easy. Finally, desperately wracking his mind for a conversation topic, Bill said the first thing that popped into his head.

"Did you and Buffy ever date each other?" The first thing that popped into one's head was not always the smartest thing.

Angel's face shuddered like he was about to vamp out, and the stony glare intensified. "Yes. What's it to you?"

"Nothing, nothing," Bill said quickly, holding up his hands as if to fend off attack. "You two just had an Ex Vibe going on."

"Considering we are exes, the 'vibe' would make sense." The silence settled back in. Buffy had been gone for about two minutes. The two sat, staring at the TV. After another thirty seconds of watching CNN, Bill couldn't take it anymore. He reached for the TV remote that was sitting on the middle cushion. Angel saw him and reached for it himself. It was this chain of events that ended in Bill holding Angel's hand.

-_"Alright William, I have a plan," Angelus muttered, staring at the enemy while gathering the clothesline in his hand._

"_Bully for you," Spike answered, looking around. They were surrounded and outnumbered. Didn't help that their foes were speaking bleeding Russian, meaning that the blonde couldn't understand any of what was going on. "And don't call me 'William'."_

_Angelus rolled his eyes and grabbed a hold of Spike's hand. The blonde vampire, now completely baffled, felt a strange thrill shoot through him. "When they run at us, grab an end and pull. If this works, at least a few of them should be out of the picture," the Irishman instructed, unaware of Spike's sudden confusion-_

Bill dropped Angel's hand like it had burned him, staring at the brunette in shock. The surge of memory had left the blonde completely unhinged, barely able to focus on anything.

"Are you okay?" Angel asked, and if Bill hadn't known better, he'd have sworn the vampire sounded concerned.

"I remembered…" Bill shook his head. "Did we ever, um, er, hold hands in Russia?"

"You remember that?" the vampire asked, actually showing facial expression.

"Yeah, just a little bit of it." Bill chewed on his lower lip_. No. It couldn't be_. But now that the thought was in his head, he had to know. "Hey, you know those books by Anne Rice, about the vampires?"

Angel turned his head very slowly back towards Bill and blinked once. "You read the Anne Rice books?"

"Yeah, a little. That guy in _Interview With A Vampire_ kind of reminds me of you."

The brunette shook his head. "If you ever regain your memory, you'll commit suicide."

"Yeah, that's a possibility," Bill fake-laughed. He steeled himself. "You know that whole theory about how all vampires are bisexual?"

Angel's eyebrow shot up almost to his hairline, and his barely visible smirk suggested that he knew where this was going. "Yes?"

"Any truth behind that?"

A small snicker escaped the vampire's lips before Angel could regain his stoic façade. "Some. It's less a prerogative and more being able to do anything that you want…"

"Means that you can do anyone you want," Bill finished. The vampire nodded. _And now for the BIG question._ "Did you and me ever, er, heh, y'know-"

Angel had mercy on him. "Once or twice." The answer was short and sharp. Bill nodded. If he thought that things had been awkward before, then Bill truly had no comprehension of awkward. Which is why, when small snickers started to escape Angel's lips, Bill was hysteric enough to start laughing too. Eventually, they were both nearly crying from laughing so hard, and neither was quite sure why. Buffy, when she finally returned with car keys, was confused. Obviously.


	11. Seeing Dead People

Rating: PG-13

Feedback: Yes please. It fills me with joy

Disclaimer: I own nothing, Joss is king. Darn him.

A/N: Italics indicate Bill's thoughts.

Chapter 11

Buffy had the decency to wait until they were in the car and driving away from the building before asking, "So, what was that about?" in reference to Bill and Angel's giggle fit.

For about twelve seconds, Bill considered telling her the truth. _Found out that Angel is/was bisexual. Hey, so was I. Funny, that._ Then he realized that would be madness, and instead said, "Something on TV."

She raised an eyebrow. "On CNN?"

"It said something about Uranus being probed on the little scrolling thing." Bill cringed. He'd stopped thinking Uranus jokes were funny in high school. Why had that been the first thing he'd thought?

Buffy snorted and rolled her eyes, bailing Bill out of an uncomfortable situation. The black Ford Bronco they were driving was meticulously clean, no CD cases or dried leaves or wrappers to indicate that anyone had ever driven the car before. The only thing missing was the new car smell.

"I don't like awkward silences," Bill stated suddenly, self-consciously.

"Yeah," Buffy responded, eyes on the road as they pulled into the busy streets of Providence. "They're awkward. That sounded better in my head."

"You don't seem like a Bronco type of girl." The search for conversation had taken Bill down desperate roads as they cruised along in the momentarily slow moving traffic. "Mustang or Corvette, maybe."

Buffy smiled at him, and despite the fact that she and her friends had more or less kidnapped him, despite the fact that he knew she'd hurt him in the past, that smile still made his heart speed up and his palms grow sweaty. She was strong and beautiful. And he knew, thanks to his sporadically retuning memory, that she smelled like vanilla and felt like sunshine and that when he was with her, she was somewhere else and he was always right there. "It belongs to the Watcher's Council. They're big on cleanliness."

That was really all the time for conversation that they had, because once the light turned green and Buffy accelerated, Bill could only hold on for dear life. _This girl can't drive! We're going to get pulled over. Wait, that's good. I could escape_. But Bill wasn't really in the mood to run, considering his legs had turned to Jell-O when Buffy took a corner and nearly ran over a group of homeless people on the sidewalk.

"So, are you getting any of your memory back?" The little blonde Slayer seemed completely oblivious to the fact that she had nearly taken out a stop sign. Bill had the fleeting thought that although Buffy may have been the savior of mankind, behind the wheel she was nothing but a menace to society.

"Bill?" Buffy prompted.

"Um, I remember some things. Nothing really, just bits and-" another sharp turn and the squeal of rubber made the blonde man tighten his grip on the seat. Considering that his knuckles were already white, it was hard for any outside observer to tell. "-pieces. Where exactly are we going?"

Buffy squealed 'round another corner. The speed limit had no meaning to her. "I told you, the Graveyard."

"Why are we going to a graveyard?" Had something just crunched?

"Not a graveyard; _the_ Graveyard." Apparently, Buffy felt this cleared everything up. "It's hard to explain."

"Okay. Watch out!"

"I saw him! He shouldn't be running across the street."

"The pedestrian crossing sign was flashing!" The rest of the trip was made in silence, as Buffy concentrated on the road and Bill prayed, wishing he'd gone to church the Sunday before he'd been kidnapped. Eventually, they left the city and got into more spacey areas. That was when Buffy parked on the street in front of a medium-sized brick building.

"This is the Graveyard," she explained as she unlocked the door. "Don't say 'it doesn't look like a graveyard'." The door opened and Bill's jaw dropped. "Because trust me, it's a graveyard."

The building was actually one giant room, filled with what looked like translucent dividers. The dividers glowed with a gentle white light. Printed on the glowing dividers were pictures of people, names and dates, like giant tombstones. There were thousands, for all Bill knew, millions.

"Oh my God," he muttered, looking around.

"This is a memorial to everyone Wolfram and Hart has ever killed in the United States. It's also a list." Buffy looked around sadly. "But it's only a tiny fraction of the amount of dead people around the world."

"All of these people were killed by Wolfram and Hart?" Bill started walking down a row, cringing at the faces of the dead staring out at him. Most of the people didn't look like soldiers. They look like his co-workers, the people he rode next to on the bus, average, normal people with families and pets and lives.

"These are the ones we know about." Buffy was keeping pace with him, rubbing her arms. It was cold in the building, but Bill wasn't sure whether that was because of the actual temperature or because of sense of death and loneliness that had take residence in this place. "There are billions that we don't know about. We have memorials to people here going back before Columbus ever sailed the ocean blue. Back before Jesus."

Bill stood in the room of the dead and looked at all of the faces, gone now, all due to one great evil. An evil that he had fought against and came out standing. How could he not feel a little guilty about that? Directionless, he wandered over to a picture of a child staring out at him, smiling, the lit partition making it seem like the little girl was glowing.

"'Isabelle Carmichael. Died January 1, 2004. Ritual sacrifice," Bill read, gagging around the word 'sacrifice'. "She looks like she was five years old." The growing sense of horror that he'd felt since he came here, hell, since he'd left his apartment last, seemed to have peaked. It was one thing to hear about dead men and remember blood. It was another to stare into the face of a five-year-old and know that she died so that some suit could get a promotion.

The Slayer placed a hand on his arm, her expressive green eyes filled with sadness. "They're organized by time of death. The oldest ones are towards the back. But I have something to show you." Taking his hand, which Bill didn't protest, she pulled him back, into last year, and placed him in front of two pictures.

Bill stared at the black man first. He had a shaved head and it was somewhat reflective. He looked young, twenty-something, and strong. But humor shone in his eyes. The blonde man blinked, seeing two worlds at once. One was in the Graveyard, with Buffy at his side. The other was a world made of patchwork memories. The black man dressed in and expensive suit, with more hair and expensive cologne. Bill remembered hugging him and saying, in the now-familiar Cockney accent, "I'm back, Charley boy!" Bill remembered the same man looking lost and haunted, guilty of something, though the blonde couldn't place what. He remembered a huge demon and a necklace and a pile of hearts. Then he was in an alley, rain pouring down, smelling the man's blood flowing out into the great wide world. The man's name was Charles Gunn.

The blonde turned towards the other picture, a white man with brown hair and glasses who was smiling a little sheepishly. Bill also remembered him. Less expensive cologne, British accent. Something about Watchers and a robot. He never saw this man die. But the one thing Bill was sure of, the only part that wasn't just some hazy memory, was that this man had loved Winifred Burkle, the body that Illyria inhabited. This man was named Wesley Windham-Pryce.

"I knew these people," Bill murmured, reaching out to gently touch the pictures.

"I never knew Gunn," Buffy commented, "but I did know Wesley. He was pretty much useless, but he was decent, on the inside anyway. I heard that he got better as the years progressed."

"Why am I here?" asked the blonde man, turning on Buffy suddenly. "Why do I have to see this?"

She stared at him, eyes fiery and determined. It almost scared Bill. "You won't fight because we tell you to. Fine, I kinda respect that. You won't fight out of a sense of duty, which makes sense in a way, because you don't know what duty is anymore." Bill would've protested, offended, but he didn't get a word in edgewise. "But you have a good heart Bill. You're a good man. I know it and I've seen it." The former vampire remembered chains and a basement and the Slayer standing in front of him, unafraid. "These people, their deaths, they mean something to you, because of your soul and your goodness. That's why you'll fight. To prevent any more deaths."

Bill stared at his feet for a moment. This wasn't him. This wasn't his life. But it used to be. And the stares of the dead asked him why he got a new life while all they got was death. Bill couldn't answer. There was no answer. "Yeah. I'll fight."

Later that night, Bill lay in his bed and stared at the ceiling as sleep began to take him. Buffy had been silent during the drive back to the Watcher's Council Headquarters, and the blonde man had been too deep in thought to notice the fact that she nearly sideswiped a mailbox. It had been dark when they'd returned, and Bill had gone straight to bed. Buffy said that Willow would try more spells in the morning.

Dreams took Bill to a large, tastefully furnished lobby, with the words 'Wolfram & Hart' spelled out across one wall. He knew this place. This was an evil place.

"Angelus?" Bill called out, unsteady. The dark-haired vampire walked out of an office and joined the human in the lobby, also seeming to look around.

"Welcome to Wolfram and Hart, Billy-boy," Angelus greeted. "Pretty nice setup the Soul had. There was that small matter of ultimate evil, though."

"Are you mad that I agreed to help them?" Bill asked. He was well aware that caring about your hallucination's feeling was a sign of insanity, but the blonde had long since decided that the world had gone crazy.

Angelus chuckled. "It takes a bit more than rejecting my advice to ruffle my feathers, Twinkie. Besides, they're the good guys, you're a bona fide good guy, it had to happen sooner or later. At least you did it on your own terms." This was closer to acceptance than Bill had expected and he felt pleased because of it. Strolling over to the desk, Bill picked up a glass unicorn.

"What's up with the ugly-ass unicorns?"

"That would be Harmony's desk," Angelus explained. "You used to sleep with her?"

"Was she hot?"

"Moderately so. Brainpower of a kiwi, though."

Bill hopped up on top the desk. "Why are we here, in the lobby of the enemy?"

The vampire squinted, causing Bill to realize that Angelus was something he'd never seen before: jumpy. Nervous. "I'm not sure. Sometimes, your bad acid trip of a brain picks the lovely locations."

"But why here?"

"Because we wanted to have a talk with you, Bill," came a voice out of nowhere, deep and professional sounding. This startled the blonde man so much that he actually fell backwards off the desk, banging his head hard. _Damn the fact that I feel realistic pain!_ When he staggered back to his feet, there was a very tall, well-dressed man standing in the middle of the lobby.

"Who the hell?" Bill asked, rubbing his head.

"Hamilton," Angelus growled, switching into vamp face and moving to stand in front of Bill. "I was under the impression that you were dead."

"I'm immortal. When you snapped my neck, I was simply incapacitated until the Senior Partners could get me up and running again. And I've upgraded," the man, Hamilton, chuckled, showing off rows of shiny white teeth. Something about the way this man didn't look evil made him all the more sinister. Hamilton cocked his head to the side. "And what about you Angelus? I was under the impression that you were evil."

Angelus shrugged and smiled a nasty, fang-filled smile. "Well, I swing both ways."

"Indeed." Hamilton smiled indulgently and directed his attention on Bill. "Well, well, well. We've spent a lot of time trying to find you, Bill. You're very important to us."

"I'm not Bill," the blonde responded. "I'm Harold. Bill's three brains to the left."

"I think you should come with me now," Hamilton continued, acting as if Bill hadn't said a thing.

"You're not taking him," Angelus snarled, stalking over to stand in front of Hamilton. "You're going to leave. Right now."

"I'm afraid that's not possible," the extremely tall (_wow, someone bigger than Angel/Angelus. Weird_) man said coolly.

"Too bad," the vampire muttered, and punched Hamilton in the face. Both the vampire and Bill were horrified when Wolfram and Hart's minion didn't even react. Hamilton then shoved Angelus, sending the vampire flying back through a pillar, which crumbled to dust.

Bill watched for a few moments, and it became clear that Angelus could not win this fight. Dream Hamilton was freakishly powerful. The ground actually shook when he walked. The vampire was already looking bruised and torn.

"Bill," Angelus yelled, dodging a blow from Hamilton, "run to the roof! Jump off! It's the only way you can wake up!"

"What about you?" Despite the fact that Angelus was one of the most evil creatures to stalk the planet, Bill was loath to leave behind his only source of protection.

"I'm already dead, kid. Not much he can do to me." Angelus's last words were slurred as Hamilton slammed a fist into the vampire's jaw, possibly breaking it. Bill nodded, wishing he could at least say goodbye, and ran for the elevator like all the demons of Hell were behind him. Hamilton yelled, "No!" as the doors closed. Bill punched the button for the rooftop level, the elevator seeming to go agonizingly slowly. Finally, the doors opened to the top of the building. Bill ran to the edge and flinched.

God, it was a long way down. And Bill knew he would feel pain. _Just jump. _But wasn't this sort of the same thing as suicide? While Bill was desperately trying to decide to take a leap of faith, the elevator doors opened again and Angelus, bruised and bloody and broken, came flying out. Hamilton was unruffled as he walked out, carrying a broken piece of wood.

Bill willed Angelus to get up, but the vampire was coughing blood and his leg was twisted at a strange angle. As Hamilton hovered over the fallen demon, Angelus locked eyes with Bill. "Leap of faith time, me boyo. If you want to live to fight some more, you have to die in here." And then Hamilton plunged the stake down. Angelus, Scourge of Europe, alter ego of Angel the Champion, disintegrated into a pile of dust.

Hamilton turned to face Bill. But by that time, the blonde man was already falling.


	12. The Plan

Rating: PG-13

Feedback: Yes please. Thanks to everyone who has been commenting! It's my favorite kind of e-mail.

Disclaimer: I don't own them, never will, and make no money.

A/N: _Italics_ indicate Bill's thoughts.

_People who kill themselves like this are crazy_, Bill thought as he plummeted towards the ground that was so close yet so far away. _What's the point of leaving the world if you leave in a state of screaming terror?_ The blonde tried to remind him that it was only a dream, but he couldn't help remembering all the other times he'd been hurt while in this strange dream world.

The ground was growing far too close, the building was far too big, the descent was too long, and still he fell. The wind whipped past him and stole the breath from his lungs. It seemed like ground was rushing up to meet him just as he was rushing down towards it. He could see the leaves in the trees. He could read the street signs. He could see the cracks in the sidewalk. _It's not the fall that kills you_, Bill thought hysterically, insanely. _It's hitting the ground._ And unfortunately for Bill, it was in the next second that he hit the ground.

The blonde man heard his bones crack and break, felt his ribs puncture his lungs, experienced the agony of having his skull shattered and his brains literally splattered across the concrete. For perhaps the blink of an eye, Bill felt himself die.

The sheets were so sweat-soaked that it looked like a pitcher of water had been poured over them. Bill struggled hard for a moment, until he realized that the only enemy holding him down was the sweaty blankets. He managed to cross the room in four long, frantic steps and flipped the bathroom lights on, thankful for their blinding ways. The blonde man had never, _ever_ been so happy to be alive as he was now. He was ecstatic to the point that he actually did a dance. A sort of spastic cross between the Chicken Dance and hip-hop.

"I'm not a pancake, I'm not dead, I kiss the sweet ground and still have my head," Bill sang, rhyming badly and not caring. He gave the finger to some point in the air above him, pretending it was Hamilton. "Thought you had me, didn't ya?" The dancing commenced until Bill realized that, unlike himself, Angelus hadn't survived the encounter with Hamilton. It was time to see Angel. Now.

His door, for the first time in five days, was unlocked. Bill marveled at this for a moment, enjoying the freedom of being able to step out of his room any time he wanted. Amazing how things got taken for granted. Apparently, his grudging compliance had meant that he was finally allowed to be free. _Sort of_. Bill was halfway down the hall before he realized that he had no idea where Angel was.

Bill contemplated walking up and down the halls, calling Angel's name, but that would be too pathetic for words. Instead, he remembered what Andrew had said about Illyria always being in the training rooms and tried to go in their general direction. She might be able to help him. Eventually, he found what he was looking for.

Angel and Illyria were sparring, although it really looked more like dancing. Very few, if any, blows were landing, and there was a lot of whirling and kicking involved. It was powerful and intricate; Bill couldn't help but be impressed by these warriors. _I could have been like that once. Holy crap._

Illyria was blue. Bill realized that this must be her 'true form', and understood why she couldn't pass for human. She looked like the Blue Man Group meets dominatrix by way of supermodel photo shoot. The only word Bill could find for it was 'cool', but that was a pathetic way of describing an ancient demon. As for Angel who was shoeless and shirtless…well, Bill wasn't into men, but he suddenly understood what he might have seen, back in the day. The blonde man took a deep breath and stepped inside the room.

Angel and Illyria both whirled, looking lithe and powerful, like tigers. They looked surprised to see him. "Bill," Angel said politely. "We heard you decided to join the team."

"Yeah," Bill muttered, eyeing Illyria. She was even stranger up close. Her eyes were definitely not normal.

"Does this form displease you?" the blue demon asked, cocking her head to the side, which Bill realized she did every time something confused her.

"No, it's just," the blonde struggled for words, "wow. You have a kick-ass Halloween costume."

Illyria squinted. "Halloween?"

"Mortal children dress up in costumes and pretend to be other things," Angel explained, crossing his arms. "Why are you here Bill?"

There was really no good way to say it. "There's really no good way to say this," Bill began, preparing himself, "so I'm just gonna come out and say it and you can react. Have you been feeling weird since I've been here, like something was wrong or missing, but now you don't feel weird anymore?"

Bill was rather tired of painful jolts, so when Angel pinned him to a wall by his neck, the blonde had had just about enough. He growled and struggled, but Angel simply tightened his grip on Bill's neck, making him gasp and go limp. "You have eight seconds to explain how you know about this before I start hitting," the vampire said coldly.

"And you have eight seconds to let go of me before I decide that you don't deserve an explanation, you fuzzy-headed Neanderthal," Bill spat, digging his short nails into Angel's wrist. Had he not been a nervous nail-biter, this mode of attack probably would have been more successful.

Angel considered the mortal's threat for seven of the eight seconds, and then suddenly relaxed his grip. Bill leaned against the wall, rubbing his neck and glaring at Angel while muttering, "They have classes for people like you."

"Classes for half-breeds?" Illyria asked, one corner of her lips raising about a millimeter. Since the ancient demon showed all of the expression of a petrified oak tree, the lip twitching was probably the Illyria-equivalent of a grin.

"Anger management classes," Bill snapped, straightening his T-shirt. "And now I don't really think I should tell you anything." Angel silently raised a fist. "Or, y'know, I could share. Sharing is good." And share Bill did. The story came tumbling from his lips and he felt relieved because of it. Finally, someone would know just what had been going on inside of his head. He wasn't so alone anymore.

As Bill finally wrapped up, telling about his jump from the Wolfram and Hart building, Angel was totally expressionless, not really staring at Bill, but past him, into some other place and time. Bill, uncomfortable with the blankness on the vampire's face, asked, "So, do you think, um, that it really was, er, him?"

"I think if the Powers That Be wanted to, they could take him out of my head and put him into yours," Angel agreed, still unreadable.

"But to be able to take him out without seriously screwing you up, you'd have to have some kind of weird split personali-" The dark-haired vampire raised an eyebrow. "Oh. So, you _do_ have a-"

"Yes," Angel answered shortly. "And we've fought before. But you say he was trying to help you?"

"Does that mean it wasn't Angelus?"

Angel shrugged. "If he was bored enough, which he tends to get, he could help us out. He's a little bit saner in my head." The vampire shook his head. "Hamilton. God damn it, I hate that guy." He seemed to consider things for another moment, and walked towards the door. "Let's go."

"Where are we going?" Bill asked as he followed the large vampire through the halls, Illyria trailing behind them silently.

"To Giles," Angel explained, his sentences short, as usual. "If Wolfram and Hart hacked into your head, then that means they know you're here and all hell is about to break loose."

"Oh…that kind of sucks," muttered Bill. Angel looked down at him, amused.

"Yes. Yes it does." The rest of the walk was silent, although it wasn't as uncomfortable as it could have been. Bill did, however, get a shock when Angel stopped halfway up a staircase and cocked his head to the side, listening. He was on the Voice Step.

"You-" Bill shook his head for a moment, mind boggled, "you know about the Voice Step?"

The vampire smirked. "Is that why you suddenly decided to try and go AWOL? You heard us talking that day." Bill nodded. "Yes, I know about this step. It came in handy for eavesdropping while Buffy and the others were discussing whether or not they could trust me and whether it was safe to have Illyria around. It's amazing what people say when they never think it'll get back to you."

"You said it would be okay to kill me," the blonde accused.

Angel didn't try to deny it. "I'm sorry for that. But after a while, when your entire life revolves around the mission, you stop asking about what part of a personality defines who someone is. That's for Psych 101. I never went and Buffy slept through that class, apparently."

Bill snorted. "You have a weird sense of humor."

Angel smiled, a rare real smile, and got off the step. "There's no one in the conference room. Giles is probably in the library."

"There's a library?"

Turns out there was a library, and a huge one at that. Bill's jaw dropped and his eyes grew wide. There were more books in here than someone could read in a century. Two centuries even. Rows and rows of books, thick ones, thin ones, leather-bound or new. Some books had English words along the spines, some had German or Chinese or Latin, and some were in languages Bill had never even seen before A person could get lost in the library and never return. "How does all this fit in one building?" the blonde man asked, almost drooling. He loved books, not that he would ever admit that. It made him seem less manly.

"It doesn't," Angel responded, grinning at Bill's reaction to the library. "We're in the building next door. They have underground tunnels."

"And you gave me a TV," Bill muttered. He glanced around, making sure Angel and Illyria were the only ones nearby. "So, do they have more than just demon books here? Do they have other things like, oh, I dunno, poetry, for example?" Hell would freeze over and become the location for the next Winter Olympics before the blonde admitted that he liked poetry. In high school, any boy who actually, _gasp_! enjoyed reading poetry was instantly labeled as gay, so Bill had learned to keep quiet about his reading preferences. The question, however, would seem perfectly innocent to any outside observer.

Angel actually laughed, a nice, amused, normal laugh. "I'll show you the poetry section later, Bill."

_How did he know that? Oh my God, he's reading my mind! He's in my head_! "How?! How did you know?" Bill asked sharply.

"You were a poet the first time you were human," explained the vampire, looking almost wistful.

"I enjoy this place," Illyria said suddenly, looking around in curiosity. She still hadn't switched back to human. "It speaks of knowledge."

The trio continued through the library, Angel seeming to know exactly where he was going. Bill wished he had that sense of direction. _Maybe it's a vampire thing._ Finally, in what seemed to be the center of the building, long rows of tables were set up for reading or studying. Giles, Willow, Xander, and Buffy sat at one table, looking over a large stack of books.

"The Scooby Gang in action," Angel muttered, so quietly that Bill barely heard him. The vampire had a strange look of heartache on his eternally young face, and the blonde suddenly understood a small fraction of what immortality was. It wasn't living forever. It was staying in place while everything else changed. It was remembering what once was and having to face the reality of how things were now.

"Hey," Bill greeted, breaking the silence abruptly. All four heads shot up and took in Angel, Bill, and the still-blue Illyria.

"Deadboy, Fangless, and the Blue Wonder," Xander commented. "Goody."

"Is there something wrong?" Giles asked, taking off his glasses.

"Yeah, there is." Angel repeated Bill's story to the Scooby Gang. Bill, for his part, stood quietly the entire time, uncomfortable with the way he was being scrutinized. Illyria looked around, seeming to stare for long periods of time at nothing.

"What're you doing?" Bill finally whispered to her as the dark-haired vampire reached the part about Hamilton. "Counting the air molecules or something?"

"Yes," Illyria answered. "How did you know?"

"So, you've had Angelus in your head for over a week, and never told us?" Willow asked, looking confused.

"Well, you kept me tied to a bed," Bill explained. "I was feeling angry."

"If Marcus Hamilton was in your head, then the Senior Partners know we have him," Giles said, agreeing with Angel's assumption. "And they'll come for him."

"How much time are we looking at?" Buffy questioned, suddenly looking less like a little blonde woman and more like a warrior.

"A day," Angel answered unexpectedly. "They like to get things done as quickly as possible, and as quietly. They'll get together some of their soldiers and come down on us, hard and silent. It would take about a day, maybe less, if they haven't undergone any drastic changes since I was CEO."

"So what's the plan? We run and hide until Wills can cook up a spell to get Spike back in action?" Xander suggested.

"No." Angel's voice was inflexible and he looked strangely angry, though not at Xander. "No running. No hiding."

"Why is that?" Buffy asked, stepping close to Angel.

"Because we'll get to them first."

"I speak for nearly everyone when I say 'Huh?'," Xander said after a moment.

"We take the fight to them. They have to have a headquarters somewhere nearby, where they would take Bill if they got a hold of him. That means all the things we'd need to make him remember are waiting for us, if we just went and got them. The Senior Partners would never see it coming." Bill suddenly recognized the look on the dark-haired vampire's face. Vengeance. Angel wanted vengeance. He wanted the chance to once again stick it to the Senior Partners. This made Bill feel strangely nauseous.

"They're headquarters would be easy to find," Willow told them, voice excited. "All I'd have to do was find the center of some extremely dark mojo. That's where they'd be."

"What about me?" Bill asked, feeling like in all the excitement about his memories, he himself had been forgotten. "What the hell am I supposed to do?"

Giles looked at him, considering. "Don't fall asleep." _Great. That helps._


	13. Snapping Point

Rating: PG-13

Feedback: Yes please

Disclaimer: I don't own them, they're just fun to play with

A/N:_ Italics_ indicate Bill's thoughts

Chapter 13

Human beings are funny creatures, defiant by nature. The minute they're told not to do something, they instantly want to do it, even if it is dangerous, stupid, or deadly. _"Do not step on grass." "No smoking." "Do not stick head in ball return at bowling alley."_ It is only common sense and self-preservation instincts that keep people from meeting ghastly fates sooner then they are intended to.

"Don't fall asleep," Bill muttered, eyes beginning to droop. "Goddamit." The blonde was suffering from the aforementioned need to defy orders combined with the exhaustion that comes from restless sleep and too much activity.

The library was not the ideal place for staying awake. It was quiet, generally at a comfortable temperature, and had tables that made excellent places to doze off. Bill had learned this lesson well in high school and was being forced to re-learn it now. Once the Scooby Gang and Angel had whipped themselves into a world-saving frenzy, they had gone off on their various missions. Bill, like an obedient dog, had been told to stay put in the library, along with Illyria. That had been two hours ago. He'd tried flipping through books, and Angel had shown him the poetry section as promised. It had been lovely, but honestly, a plotless action movie filled with macho language and explosions probably would have been more effective at keeping him awake. Reading was soothing. The former vampire wanted to be wired like a crack addict who'd just taken a hit.

So far coffee from the vending machine by the librarian's desk had been his was of staying in the world of the waking, but as any caffeine addict could have told him, once the first few doses of caffeine wore off, it was all downhill. Now Bill was zoning off into the land of half-sleep the frequented so many schools and other places of higher education. Eyelids drooping, head slumping, sudden full-body jerks as he realized he was beginning to fall asleep.

For a few brief, hopeful moments, he'd hoped that Illyria would help keep him awake. _That was a stupid plan,_ the blonde thought, shaking his head suddenly as he felt his eyelids succumb to gravity. So far, the blue demon had done nothing but stare stoically at everything around her. Now she was flipping through a book of Percy Shelley's poems, not reading so much as studying the ink on the pages.

"In my time, written word was reserved for the highest gods and royalty," the Old One reminisced, flipping another page and staring at the curves and lines of the letters upon the page. "Now it is available to any lower being that wishes to posses it."

"Yeah," Bill muttered. "Words are good."

Illyria stared with her unfathomable blue gaze at the half-asleep human. "You are weary."

"You are observant," Bill responded. He sniffed and shifted his shoulders. "God, all this watching and waiting. This is worse than a desk job, I kid you not."

"Desk job?" the demon cocked her head to the side.

Bill snorted, "Yeah, desk job. I sit at a computer and stare at it until some of the things start to make sense. Then I report it to my communist tyrant of a boss."

"You do not enjoy your 'desk job'." Illyria summarized.

"It's kind of like being digested by a giant computerized stomach with acid reflux disease," added Bill. Oddly enough, the monotone conversation was not perking him up.

Illyria seemed to turn this over in her mind like someone tasting wine. "You are mortal," she stated after a moment.

"That seems to be the case, yeah."

"So you will die." The slender demon still seemed confused.

"Two for two."

"Then why do you spend what little time in the world doing something you despise?"

Bill chuckled despite himself. _Since when did Illyria become a philosopher?_ "Congratulations, little blue demon chick," the blonde man chortled, shifting positions so that his arms rested on the table. "You've just summarized the problem of many a middle class human. And I guess the answer would have to be: so we can get the money."

"The money?" Illyria asked, closing the book and laying it near her on the table. Bill took a moment to admire the fact that she had the most perfect posture he had ever seen a human body exhibit.

"Yeah, the money. The big bucks, the mean green to get the bling bling." Now that Bill had discovered Illyria's total ignorance of all things human, he took a strange delight in baffling her with human terms. _Bling bling. Pfft. This is what comes of watching MTV_. "So we can buy things and live in a manner that is comforting to us. Money makes the world go round."

"Indeed?" Illyria seemed to consider this for a moment, and only a moment. She then blinked at him in what was probably a brush-off and flipped open Shelley's poems again. Bill, now robbed of any sound, felt himself beginning to drift. _Maybe if I just lay my head on the table I'll feel a little more comfortable…_ There, he did, that was better.

As Bill began to succumb to his mental and emotional exhaustion, Illyria read a stanza out loud, with a slightly wondering look on her face. "'We look before and after/And pine for what is not/Our sincerest laughter/With some pain is fraught/ Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thoughts.' For a human, this poet understood the ways of things well."

His eyes fluttered closed and what was once the vampire named Spike fell asleep. _Look before and after_. Story of his life, at least lately. Due to those brooding thoughts, Bill didn't notice that he was in the Wolfram and Hart lobby until a few moments later.

"Holy Mother of God!" he yelped, glancing around the silent, menacing lobby for a moment. He waited for a moment, but there was no Angelus. _Of course not. He's back in Angel's head._ That left Bill alone, at Hell Incorporated. "Oh goody."

Bill began searching for a weapon in case Hamilton decided to make another guest appearance in his brain. Nothing. The lobby had an amazing amount of nothing. Some glass unicorns, some potted plants, some modern art. Around the time Bill's fist closed around a letter opener on the secretary's desk, he heard a genial voice behind him. "Bill, good to see you."

The blonde man whirled and held the letter opener up in a vaguely threatening manner as Hamilton descended the stairs. Dressed as impeccably as ever, the lawyer-slash-minion of hell still exuded a quiet aura of menace. "I told you," Bill stated, trying not to be afraid, "I'm Harold. Bill's not here right now. Wanna leave a message?"

Hamilton sighed quietly. "You still haven't lost that annoying sarcasm. Oh well, for this to work, you won't need to talk. Much." He reached the foot of the stairs and began strolling at a leisurely pace towards the former vampire.

"I'm not helping you," Bill growled, holding the letter opener in front of him like a sword. As Hamilton walked closer, Bill backed up, partly out of fear, partly out of a desire to be nowhere near the 'man'. "Seriously, back off."

"Seriously, no," Hamilton laughed. "Why don't you just come quietly, and you probably won't be hurt."

"Screw you." Bill wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. This was fast spiraling out of his control. Not that it had ever really been in his control to begin with. "I'm not going to be your puppet."

"No, you're going to be our tool." Hamilton was finally standing directly in front of Bill, who had run into the back of Harmony's desk. Having weighed his options, Bill gave the mental equivalent of _Hey, what the hell_, and jabbed the letter opener forward, throwing his weight behind a hard stab that would incapacitate Hamilton, or at least cause intense pain. Unfortunately, the lawyer deflected the blow with embarrassing ease, sent the letter opener flying across the lobby, and grabbed Bill around the throat.

Dangling off the ground, the blonde man gasped for breath and clawed at the hand around his throat. Hamilton stared at the struggling human in amusement before commenting, "This is just pathetic. William the Bloody, second only to the Scourge of Europe himself. And now? Just another piece of worm food in waiting. You're not even worth my time, really. At least Angel presented a challenge."

"And if I remember right, he killed you," Bill choked out. "You died and he walked away and fought thousands of demons. Very challenging."

Hamilton tightened his grip on Bill's throat. "But if I'm not mistaken, I'm right back on the Senior Partner's 'A' list, and your precious Angel is kowtowing to a bunch of mortals."

"Okay," the blonde man grunted in annoyance, "he's NOT 'my precious', which is kind of creepy, and does living in someone else's head really count as 'A' list?"

"Oh, I'll enjoy making you talk," Hamilton said with a rather unpleasant smile.

"Get your hands off me!" Bill snarled. His writhing, while not exactly manly, was intended to make Hamilton loose his grip. It wasn't.

"Hmm, how shall I put this?" the tall man mused for a moment, pretending to think. "Oh yes. What are you going to do about it?"

Everyone, from Gandhi to Hitler, Mother Teresa to Marilyn Monroe, had a snapping point. Sometimes it came after years of buildup, and sometimes the most random thing could cause a person to loose it. William Bloody, William the Bloody, had reached his. He had been kidnapped and beaten up and tied to a bed to have his mind screwed with, all in the name of fighting the good fight. He had the forces of darkness gunning for him and was being harassed by some oversized Ken doll in a suit. The veil over his memories was starting to lift, and from his past he heard his own voice scream out in rage. _Okay, no more Wuss!Bill. Time to open a can of whoop ass._

Bill had mostly gathered his fighting ability from kung fu movies and the _Batman_ TV show. But Spike was a warrior and he knew what to do. The blonde stopped clawing at the hand around his neck and instead used his fingers to jab Hamilton in the eyes. For a moment, he imagined that his fingernails were covered in chipped black nail polish.

Hamilton dropped the Bill and clutched at his eyes, grimacing in pain. "This is my mind, G.Q.," the former vampire sneered. "Now get the hell out!"

The lawyer raised his head and blinked blood out of his eyes. "You. Will. Pay. For that," he growled, seeming to swell. Bill had vague thoughts about the Incredible Hulk and smashing things before deciding it was best if he wasn't around to see if Hamilton turned green.

Darting past Hamilton, Bill ran into Angel's former office and locked the door. Looking desperately for a way out as he heard Hamilton footsteps thundering towards him. Eyes locking on the elevator, the former vampire punched the button marked 'penthouse' and rose up desperately, swearing and wishing that the elevator had an express option. The doors finally pinged open and Bill dashed into the apartment, pausing to look around for a moment. "Holy crap, he was loaded," the blonde commented, admiring the VERY nice apartment. "Evil pays nicely."

The elevator doors closed and it began to descend downward. Hamilton was a-knocking, and Bill wanted be elsewhere when he arrived. The blonde man darted forward and pounded on the windows, which seemed to be freakishly solid. Finally, picking up and something heavy and artistic looking and gave a good solid heave. The window shattered just as the doors pinged open. Hamilton looked upset. Bill, feeling an oddly familiar sneer upon his face, flipped the lawyer the bird and called out, "Later, tool. See ya in hell." Then he jumped.

Bill, after experiencing the unmitigated joy of falling to his death _again_, ended up sprawled on the library floor with Illyria standing above him looking perplexed. "You scream loudly when you dream."

"Okay, no more nice guy," Bill grunted. "Any ideas where Angel and the Slayer might have buggered off to?"

"You are mocking me," accused Illyria.

Bill blinked. Stupid thing to ask the monotone demon. He ran through the library back into the main building and grabbed the first intern-looking guy he found. "Angel or Buffy. Where are they?"

"Um, weapons room, but why-"

"Thanks dude."

After a bit of wandering, Bill walked into the Weapons Room to find Buffy and Angel on top of a table, kissing like they were trying to suck each other's tongues out. "Oh, that's real nice."


	14. Another Fight

Rating:PG-13

Feedback: Yes please!

Disclaimer: Don't own 'em and never will. Technically, I don't even own Bill. sigh

A/N: _Italics_ indicate Bill's thoughts. Or, sometimes, memories.

Chapter 14

"Um, we, um," appeared to be the only things that Buffy and Angel could manage to say as they sprang off of each other and off the table in one move. They were attempting to surreptitiously straighten their clothing and smooth out their hair while trying to come up with some sort of explanation for Bill, who was mostly just amused.

"We were, um, just, um, uh," Angel was desperately searching for something to explain away being found swapping saliva with his supposed ex-girlfriend on a table.

"Let me guess," Bill said, leaning against the wall and smirking. "She passed out and you were trying to give her CPR."

"I was gonna go with 'He was adjusting my tongue ring', but yours works too," Buffy commented.

"Do you have a tongue ring?"

"No. But you didn't know that."

Bill rolled his eyes and said, "Look, I don't care. I'm not dating either of you, nor do I remember ever doing so, and normally I would tell you to carry on," Buffy had the decency to blush. Angel just scowled, "but this is actually important." Bill stepped to the middle of the room and looked around at all of the weapons hanging on the walls and lying on various tables and fixtures.

"This is about me," the blonde man stated. "All the spells and fighting and secrecy is for me and because of me. So, after falling asleep and managing to escape Hamilton for a second time," Angel opened his mouth to say something, but Bill quickly interjected, "and shut up Angel. Keep your thoughts inside your big caveman head." The blonde felt a wave of satisfaction when Angel's hand instinctively shot up to his forehead. "Anywho, I got away from Hamilton and you know what? I'm starting to remember things. I built a sex robot of you, Buffy." Bill pointed to the Slayer to emphasize.

"WHAT?!" Angel exploded, looking like he was about to go for Bill's jugular. "YOU DID WHAT?!"

"Yeah, that was gross. And okay, congratulations for the memories, but you still don't remember the big secret of the Fell Brethren. We still don't know how to stop them." Buffy crossed her arms, unruffled by Angel's distress.

"No, I don't. But I know what's triggering my memories. Fighting. Fighting makes me remember things." Bill wasn't tired anymore. He felt energized, like he was finally back in control of his own life.

"What is a sex robot?!" _Angel's really off-topic_.

"Exactly what it sounds like," Bill snapped. "Added to that, you're about to try and storm the Maine division of Wolfram and Hart, if it even exists. And all of this, you planned. Not one decision you've made about me has ever had my input on it."

"That's because until about a week ago, you didn't even know that this existed," Buffy gestured to the Watcher's Council building and the entire supernatural world in general. "You don't understand."

"You could try and explain it to me," Bill argued, stepping closer to her. "You could've done that a thousand times. But no, you kidnapped me, knocked me out when I tried to leave, tied me to bed and did wacky spells on me, like I was a rabbit and you were a friggin' cosmetics company. Despite all that, you think I should trust you." At Buffy and Angel's exasperated looks, Bill rolled his eyes and added, "I understand that you're the good guys, okay? White hats, white horse, riding off into the sunset," he trailed off as he glanced at the spiky-headed vampire, "okay, maybe not the sunset, but that's not the point. You're the ones fighting the good fight. But I used to fight it too. Don't I at least deserve enough respect to be able to make my own choices."

"What exactly do you want us to do here Bill?" Angel asked, finally letting go of the sex robot thing.

"Oh that's easy," Bill replied, smiling. "I want you to fight me."

About a half hour later, Bill, Angel, and Buffy were standing in one of the training rooms. Angel had his shirt off, Bill was in gray sweats, and Buffy was in sweatpants and a sports bra. Angel was glaring daggers at Bill when he stared at her. Giles, Xander, Andrew, Illyria, Dawn were standing along one wall.

"So, what's the plan again?" Xander asked, hands in his pockets and chewing gum.

"Bill says his memory gets triggered by combat," Buffy explained. "We're going to try and fight him, to help him remember."

"Ah." Xander considered this for a moment. "Ten bucks and a free box of donuts says that he gets wiped out in the first fifteen seconds."

"Twenty dollars and two boxes says it's in the first ten," Giles responded.

"I say he lasts at least half a minute." Dawn apparently felt that she was defending Bill.

"Would the twenty bucks go to pay for the donuts or would that be something separate?" Andrew asked. Illyria, looking human again, was staring.

"We're not going to really fight him," Angel interjected. "Otherwise, we'd wipe him out in under three seconds."

"This is doing wonders for my self-esteem. Thank you all," Bill complained. He was nervous, now that his theory was going to be tested. He glanced around apprehensively at the people in the room, finally noticing one absence. "Where's Willow?"

"Still looking for the spot of dark mojo," Buffy responded. "Are we going to do this?" Bill nodded. Buffy and Angel dropped into fighting positions. The blonde man took a deep breath and waited for the normal rush of knowledge and strength that normally filled him in survival situations. It didn't. He stood there feeling very dumb.

"Anything?" Angel asked, crossing his arms. The vampire looked smug. Buffy raised an eyebrow.

"Give me a second," Bill muttered. He could feel his face begin to redden.

"Does the bet still count if nothing happens at all?" Dawn wondered.

"Something will happen!" Bill snapped. He rolled his shoulders and tried to make himself remember. _I distracted Hamilton and incapacitated Xander, so why can't I do it now?_ "Okay, maybe you should attack me and then I'll react or something." Which was why, about two seconds later, Bill was on his back, clutching his cheek and groaning.

"Well, I like it so far," Xander commented from somewhere above.

"You shut it!" Bill grunted. He climbed to his feet with a grunt and rubbed his cheek. "Okay, we're gonna try that again." Bill took a deep breath and dove suddenly at Angel. In the off chance that he got a hit in, he didn't want Buffy to be the one who took it. Angel shuffled backwards and swung at him. Bill ducked and aimed a kick at the vampire's ribs. As his leg was swinging forward, he remembered a cold night, an angry mob, and something about a mineshaft.

Buffy came from behind and kicked at the back of his knees, causing Bill to go down hard. He rolled, which was odd because he'd never voluntarily done a roll in his life. He came up in a crouch and twirled, stretching his leg out in order to sweep the blonde Slayer off of her feet. _"Aren't you tired of fights you know you're gonna win?"_

It was happening, just like it was supposed to, and Bill felt quite smug about that. The memories were leaking out from behind their protective little brain veil, sliding into his consciousness. He knew these moves, could do them with his eyes closed. He knew these people, from the Watcher to the Little Bit. The Poofter and the Slayer, the Whelp and the Witch. Big Blue. Charley-boy and Percy weren't around anymore. Neither was Green Jeans. The words and identities flowed through him and he felt like he was finally starting to get a hold of it all.

The memories were so damn slippery though. It felt like some kind of light bulb in his head was blinking on and off, illuminating things just enough for him to begin to see, then quickly leaving him in the dark. He was gaining more memories this way, but he was not going to get them all back. The Powers That Be wouldn't allow it to happen, at least not without magick.

Finally, Bill tumbled to the ground and did not feel any particular need to rise. He was panting and covered in sweat. Angel's nostrils were flaring slightly and Buffy's breathing was heavier. _They were going easy on me,_ Bill was forced to admit to himself. Still, the looks of awe in the eyes of the bystanders made him feel a warm glow of righteous satisfaction.

"So, did it work?" Dawn asked, her looks reminding him of a puppy dog gazing at its owner.

"I'm remembering more and more," Bill had to pause and take a few deep breaths, "but it all keeps slipping away, y'know? Like I can't get a good grip on anything. Hey, Angel, who's Darla and why does she seem synonymous with 'whore' in my mind?"

It was probably a good thing that Willow's excited shriek filled the room before Angel could answer. "I found it, I found the place!" The redhead seemed ecstatic. "It's only about an hour away from here. It's pretty much just a one story building, so finding all the magickal things shouldn't be too hard."

"Okay everyone, gear up," Buffy ordered. "We're going to do this tonight, before they know that we're coming."

"Buffy, if Hamilton somehow hacked into Bill's head or something, than they might be waiting for us," Angel pointed out.

"Then let's not disappoint them. Dawn, you're staying." The teenaged girl opened her mouth to argue, but Giles cut her off by saying, "Your sister is right Dawn. This is too dangerous for you."

"What am I supposed to do, sit here and play Yahtzee?"

"Order Pay-Per-View or something," was Buffy's parting response. Things moved quickly then. Buffy, Angel, and Bill changed into normal clothes. Some Slayers and Council operatives were assembled and briefed while Bill sat in the background and tried to focus on his mind. It was intensely frustrating now. He could almost feel the memories and wanted to reach into his brain and tear away the cover on the past. The small army of people went to gather various guns and medieval looking weaponry. Bill somehow found himself in the same weapon's room that Buffy and Angel had been kissing in. Even better, they were there with him, alone. He smirked.

"Don't say words, Spike, please," Buffy ground out from between clenched teeth, not even noticing that she'd called him Spike.

"Well are you two dating or what?" Bill didn't particularly care, one way or another, but he did get a strange sort of pleasure out of watching Angel and Buffy (_The Ponce and Slutty_) squirm.

"We're," Angel trailed off and sighed. "We're not sure."

"I guess we just…got caught up in the moment," Buffy sighed, picking an axe up off the wall and twirling it around in her hands.

Angel muttered something that sounded like, "If you'd just finish baking-"

Buffy said, quickly, tersely, "Don't start, Angel." Bill then felt somewhat guilty about bringing up what was obviously a delicate situation.

About ten minutes later, Bill found himself standing in the lobby with enough gun-wielding people to make _The Matrix_ look tame. "Everybody ready?" Giles asked, glancing out over the small sea of heads. Bill suddenly remembered something that should not be forgotten and cried out for them to hold on. He ran to his room to retrieve the precious item, and slipped the duster over his arms as he walked back into the lobby. "Okay, I'm good."

The Scooby Gang and Angel for one small moment, all had identical expressions of quiet shock on their faces. Even Illyria looked slightly interested. Bill looked down at himself. He was dressed in the duster, black jeans, and a black T-shirt. Clearly, this had some meaning to them. They shook of their blast from the past fairly quickly, and as the group was heading out the door, Xander muttered to Bill, "Try not to get killed, Blondie. Every time you get resurrected, it makes things to complicated."

Bill figured this was as close as Xander would come to offering good luck, and responded in kind. "Thanks, whelp. Try not to lose the other eye. You'd end up like that guy off Star Trek."


	15. Remembering

Rating: PG-13

Feedback: Yes please

Disclaimer: I don't own them, just a TV and a computer.

A/N: Italics indicate Bill's thoughts. This is the second-to-last chapter, and whew, is my brain tired. g

Chapter 15

Things were not going well. The Watcher's Council task force, Bill, Angel, Illyria, and the Scoobies had stormed the makeshift Wolfram and Hart outpost. According to Willow, there weren't very many people there. What the Wicca had not seen, however, was that the few beings that were there were not people at all, but demons. Big, nasty demons who were all looking for a fight. A fight was just what they were getting.

Bill had very quickly learned that muscle memory and hazy flashes of insight were not enough to stay alive in battle, and had decided to hang back and let the professionals do the fighting. Not that he wasn't trying to help. More than once, he had distracted a demon long enough for one of his comrades to take it out, and he had even gotten in a few blows of his own. But the human had also been knocked down like a bowling pin more than once; his skinned knees and rapidly forming black eye were testimony to that. He had yet to find a demon that he could really take on and having any chance of winning against.

That all changed when he noticed the small, greenish demon lurking in a corner, watching the battle with wide eyes and clutching a knife protectively. It had wide, cow-like eyes that were an ugly shade of maroon, and it only came up to Bill's chest. _Hello, misplaced aggression. Happy to see ya_. "Hey there, little guy," Bill called out mockingly. "That knife of yours is almost bigger than you."

"It's not a knife," the demon snapped, backing away from Bill with an alarmed look on its face. "It's a ceremonial dagger."

"Oh, big difference. I'm all a-tremble _now_," the blonde snorted, gripping his own knife a bit firmer. He had wanted a gun, because even if it wouldn't do much damage to demons, it felt a lot safer than a knife or a stake. But one of the Council operatives had told him, quite bluntly, 'You will shoot yourself in the foot or one of us in the back of the head. You're not getting a gun.' That had been that.

"Don't come any closer!" the little demon cried out, backed into a wall.

"Or what?" Bill asked, preparing to strike.

Suddenly, there was a screaming pain in his knife hand and the human looked down to see that his skin had been split from elbow to wrist. "Or I stab you, dumbass," the demon answered, twirling the knife in his hand and looking much more menacing than it had five seconds ago.

"Ow!" Bill yelped indignantly. His arm was bleeding heavily and he dropped the knife, which clattered on the floor. He had a bad feeling about this. No one was looking in his direction; none of his friends and allies had any idea what was happening to him.

The demon suddenly grabbed a hold of his arm, placing its hand to so that it touched the bleeding cut. "Our file said that you couldn't resist a fight. Good to see we were right." The demon's hand began to glow as Bill stood, frozen with shock and pain. The little creature flashed him a smile. "Enjoy." Suddenly, joltingly, blackish-colored sparks shot deep into the wound, into Bill's body and his blood.

The human staggered backwards until he lay sprawled on the hallway floor, gasping for air as if he was being strangled. Even though the demon wasn't touching him any more, the blonde felt as if the sparks were still flowing into his body via his arm. He felt like they were filling up his body until there was no more room for air or blood. It all seemed to be flowing upwards toward his head, going to blot out his thoughts. Bill realized that he was probably going to die in this nondescript little building at the hands of a 3'11 demon. It didn't seem right that he should go out this way, didn't seem fair. _This can't be the end! I'm twenty something! I haven't even gotten the chance to live! How can it end like this?_ Then the sparks reached his head.

"You know, I can't believe you're the reason for all this work. You aren't even all that scary," the little demon commented as he stood over Bill. The blonde human didn't hear him though, because Bill was busy remembering.

He remembered that his name was William, and he had been named for his father, who had died a long, long time ago. His mother, his dear, sweet, dead mother had loved him and he'd made her into a demon. But she had loved him, and continued to, even with her dying breath.

He remembered death, the feeling of life being drained out of him, painful and erotic at the same time. Drusilla, his dark Goddess, his wicked plum, his very own personal basket case, and the only person who ever saw the burning baby fish swimming 'round his head. He loved her, always would, but Slayers and Sires and slimy chaos demons got in the way. _Dru. Can't hate you baby, and believe me, I've tried._

He remembered that bitch Darla and the way her eyes were so red-rimmed with tears she would never have admitted to crying on the night that Angelus didn't come back. She never said why, never said anything about the soul, just sat there looking pissed and sad and confused.

He remembered Angel and Angelus and everything in between. He could see the differences between them, which were as small as a world and as big as alone, as the saying went. He saw Angel's fight to be forgiven and Angelus' desperation to be free and understood them both. For all the history between them, he couldn't summon up hate in that moment. There was too much else mixed in.

He remembered Sunnydale, the Judge, and Acathala. How it felt to sit in that damned wheelchair and how good it had felt to drive a crowbar into the back of Angelus' head. He remembered leaving and coming back, alone and drunk.

He remembered the Initiative and the Scooby gang and being chained in a bathtub and to a chair. The taste of pig's blood rushed back into his memory, nearly making him gag. Harmony and her annoying little giggle. Warren and the Buffybot. His skin almost ached with the memory of Glory and everything that entailed. And there was his familiar companion, the image of Buffy's great fall from a tower so high and the poof of dust that her already-dead body made as it hit the ground. That memory had played over and over again every time he closed his eyes for months, how could he have ever forgotten it?

He remembered Dawn and his strange (_sisterly_, he thought, with nearly a giggle) love for her. It was strange, but the blonde man had so many little, inane memories of the dark-haired girl whose reality was questionable to begin with. Her lip-gloss was as vibrant in his mind as Buffy's lipstick, and he could still remember her order at McDonalds, which she ate every day in the weeks after her sister's death.

He remembered singing on a coffin and fighting demons for cigarettes and blood. Buffy's scent lingered in his nostrils and the knowledge that as soon as they were done she was going to push away as if she were about to vomit. Every ounce of helplessness, hurt, self-loathing, and sheer bloody rage came rushing back to him, so that the blonde man very suddenly understood how he came to be in that bathroom, gripping the Slayer and demanding something that he'd eventually realize that he had no right to.

He remembered the soul and how it burned. The basement still flickered in his mind, as did the First. There was also very little that could compare to once again having to move in with Xander. The Slayers and their little girl blood filled his nose and made him lust for tearing and ripping, despite the soul. He remembered burning and knowing-_knowing_- that this was the end. There was still something wonderful in knowing that he would never have to make any decisions again because he was being toasted alive.

He remembered that amulet and Angel and all of his wonderfully imperfect friends.

He remembered. Even as the tears ran down his cheeks while he laughed uncontrollably at his wonderful, terrible life, he remembered. Spike opened his eyes.

The Scoobies, Angel, and Illyria stood gathered around him, along with some random Council flunkeys. "Are you okay?" Buffy asked hesitantly.

Spike took a moment to muse on the fact that anytime that question was asked, the person it was addressed to was rarely, if ever, okay. The former vampire rubbed his eyes and sniffed. "Been better, love." His accent was firmly back in place and it was totally worth the shock on everyone's faces.

"Do you remember?" Angel asked, squinting in confusion.

"Yeah Peaches, it all comin' back." The blonde smirked and put his hands behind his head.

"Oh joy," his Grandsire deadpanned.

"So it was the demon?" Giles asked.

"Yep."

"The now-dead demon?" The former Watcher seemed contrite, in a polite, British way.

"Say what?" Spike lifted his head and stared at the headless form of his miniscule attacker.

Buffy winced. "My bad."

"So you remember all that you had forgotten?" Illyria questioned, having switched into her blue form at some point.

Spike climbed to his feet a little unsteadily and leaned against the wall, taking a moment to marvel at the way his lungs ordered him to take another breath. His heart beat and he could almost _feel_ the heat of his blood pulsing through his veins. "Yeah Blue, I remember."

"The Fell Brethren?" Giles asked, pushing his glasses up his nose.

The fight for the baby had been rough and Spike had been constantly worried for the little guy's life. The last surviving member of the demon clan had offered to tell him their closely guarded little secret. What had possessed him to say yes? His life would have been so much easier if he'd just stabbed the thing instead of listening to it talk and _then_ stabbing it. Damn.

"Yeah," the former vampire sighed. They were going to feel like such fools. "They're a force of nature. Hurricanes, tornadoes, earthquakes, that annoying rainstorm that lasts for a week. They control it all. That was their part of the Apocalypse."

"How do we stop them?" Angel asked, gripping his sword a little tighter.

Spike laughed harshly. "You don't. I already did."

"What?" came the somewhat unanimous response from all assembled.

"Their powers are only destructive if they have their leaders to keep them together and a sacrifice to draw power from." He laughed again. "I killed their leaders and the baby is cooing at its mum as we speak. It'll take 'em centuries to get themselves back together and find one more chosen one."

"So you're saying all of this," Buffy gestured around at the bodies and carnage of the Wolfram and Hart building, "was for nothing?"

"'Fraid so." Spike shrugged and wished he had a cigarette. He felt so unbelievably tired right then, like he had been put through the Demon Trials three times in a row.

The entire group seemed to sag as the energy drained from it. "What happens now?" Illyria asked, her voice subdued.

"Let's just…go back," Willow suggested. And so they did, everyone feeling as if they had watched a movie that had been cut off before the end. Angel dropped back to walk behind Spike and muttered, so quietly that none of the humans heard it, "Nice to see you again, _Lestat_."

"That's a cheap shot, you bastard."

Four and a half hours later, a half hour before dawn, Spike was rifling through Bill's things, trying to understand the person he had become. His memories of Bill's life seemed like hazy dreams, and the former vampire realized that he had been committing the cardinal sin of human beings: he was wasting his life.

Willow walked into his room, looking nervous. "Hey Red," Spike greeted, knowing that whatever was coming couldn't be good.

"Spike," the Wicca said hesitantly.

"Am I dying?" the blonde asked, wanting to know if he should take up smoking again.

"What?" the redhead gasped, startled. "Oh, no, nothing like that. Don't be paranoid."

"Then what?"

Willow sat down on his bed and looked up at him. "You remember the demon that gave your memories back?"

His beating heart sank into his toes. "Yeah."

"The spell it did was only temporary, Spike. Every few hours, it could have done the spell again, but…"

"But it's dead now," Spike finished, feeling a strange moisture in his eyes. Willow nodded. "And I'm going to loose it all, aren't I?" She nodded again. The blonde sat on the bed next to her. "Bloody hell."

"We could probably experiment some, see if we couldn't-" Willow began, but Spike cut her off.

"Pet, what would you say the odds were of finding a spell that could get my head in order? Permanently?"

"About," she squinted, "100 to one."

"Let it go."

"What?" She looked startled.

Spike turned to look at her. "Let me go, Red. Let me go back to being Bill. I earned it, yeah?" He walked to the door of his room.

"Where are you going?" Willow asked.

"To say some goodbyes."


	16. Time of Your Life

Rating: PG-13

Feedback: Yes please

Disclaimer: I own nothing. I just watch TV and have a computer

Author's Note: Italics indicate Spike/Bill's thoughts. Song lyrics taken from _Time of Your Life_ by Green Day, which is a fantastic song. It kind of goes with the chapter too, so if you can, you should listen to it while reading.And so ends the story. Thanks to everyone who gave me feedback, which absolutely makes my day. You guys rock!

Chapter 16

Spike had a purpose as he walked through the quiet halls. Rhode Island. The Powers That Be could've stuck him anywhere in the world, and they chose bloody Rhode Island. The only state of the Union that could be jogged across.

Xander turned a corner and spotted Spike, a mean look coming to his eye. "Fangless."

"Whelp," Spike paused and simply stared at him. Time was ticking. Did he really want to spend it arguing with the twerp?

"I heard that you were going to go back to being Bill," Xander said noncommittally.

"You heard right. Something you'd like to say about that? Now would be the time." Spike briefly considered whether or not Xander actually posed a threat to him now that the blonde was human. _This isn't fair. Donut-Boy here should _not_ be stronger than me!_

To Spike's infinite surprise, Xander actually smiled and answered, "Good choice, is all."

"What?"

"Whether or not you deserve to be forgiven has apparently been forgotten by the Powers That Screw With You, so my argument for that one was out. But this isn't where you belong anymore." Spike was forced to admit that Xander may have actually…grown up. He wasn't just the twerp now.

"I'm going to go talk to Buffy, so move," Spike ordered. It was too hard to find words for Buffy. Better to simply react.

Xander shrugged. "Fine by me. In a couple of hours, you won't even remember how you met her."

Spike winced. Whether or not the boy had been trying, that particular barb had hit home. It wasn't that Spike wanted to lose Buffy, or Dawn, or any of the other hundreds of people that had made his unlife what it was. But he had earned the right to choose, and he had chosen. The only way to be truly guilt free of his crimes was to never remember them at all. Besides, he could be Bill again. He was Bill, and had a lot of potential, if only he'd quit being such a wanker and do something entertaining with his life.

As Xander walked past the former vampire, Spike turned and called out, "Hey, Xander." Xander, possibly in shocked reaction to actually hearing his name pass Spike's lips, turned and waited. "Tell the others…Good luck. Live well." The boy looked confused, but nodded.

Buffy was on a bench outside, just staring into space and gazing at the sky, in which the sun was beginning to set. Spike sat down next to her with a weary sigh. She stared at him for a moment and then murmured, "Hi Spike."

"Hello, Slayer. It's nice, innit? Sitting in the sun. Ya never know how precious that is until you can't do it anymore." Spike reached into his pocket and was about to light a cigarette, but stopped before the flame of his Zippo reached the tip.

"You, turning down a cigarette? Something must be up," Buffy commented, looking so, so beautiful.

"Yeah well, I remembered that I'm human now. Wouldn't do any good to have my lungs filled up with tar and carry around an oxygen tank when I'm old an' crusty, would it?" Spike said, throwing the cigarette onto the street and putting away the lighter.

Buffy gave a little chuckle at that and Spike felt his heart literally clench. He'd thought before that there weren't words for her, and he'd been somewhat right. But there were words that came close. He was a poet, after all.

"I assume you've heard about the spell going away?" No need to beat around the bush, so to speak. Spike still wasn't sure how much time he had left. Buffy nodded, but didn't say anything. Spike could tell that she desperately wanted to, but for once was trying to respect his feelings. "Go for it. Say what you wanna say. Not like I'll be sore about it tomorrow or anything."

"Why?" The blonde woman asked. "You finally have your memory back. Your head isn't a giant blank space like it was before. Are you really gonna go back to being Bill? He's going to remember everything that happened here, Spike. He just won't remember his life before the Shanshu; can you really go back to that?"

Spike sighed and stared at the streaked sky. It was strange, the longing that filled his heart for sunlight. He'd always been pale, even when he was human the first time around, and the sun had just been one giant candle. In fact, Spike had actually discovered his fondness for sunlight during the few minutes in time that he'd been wearing the Gem of Amarra. He'd still been obsessed with killing Buffy then, but he'd taken the long way around to get to her.

"Could you describe Heaven to me, Goldilocks?" Spike asked, never looking away from the sky and the clouds that had always represented the happier side of the afterlife.

Buffy gave a start. "What does that have to do with anything?" Her defenses were slowly coming back up now.

"Never mind, Slayer. I'll describe it for you." Hours ago, in the hallway at the Wolfram and Hart building, Spike had opened his eyes and been himself again, complete with a memory of everything that had happened to him since that fateful day he'd stepped into his apartment. Deep down inside of him, a little coal of anger had been burning, just waiting to be fueled and fanned. Spike felt like he was pouring kerosene over it.

"Heaven is rest, my dear Slayer. It's having friends that have never contemplated having to kill you, or what would happen when you died. It's waking up in bed and not being afraid that this day might be your last. Heaven is a girlfriend that doesn't hate herself for being with you. Heaven is walking past a church and not cringing at the crosses. It was being able to drink and laugh and be happy without being guilty." Buffy's jaw was hanging open in shock. "Heaven was becoming human and being forgiven of my sins and never having to remember all the awful things that lurked in the dark. You, Slayer, you and all of your friends, pulled me out of my Heaven."

Buffy was shaking her head, looking hurt and furious at the same time. "How can you even start to compare the two?"

"Pretty damn easily. I just did."

She looked lost for words, and a little hint of horror was growing in her eyes as she said, "We needed you, Spike. We had to save the world, we had no way of knowing-"

"That I was happy?" Spike finished for her, feeling a strange wetness at his eyes. Must be that damn pollen allergy flaring up again. "That it would all be in vain?"

"We never wanted to hurt you," Buffy muttered softly. "But we had to make a choice. We all sacrificed things. I didn't want to come back either."

"But your friends thought they were doing you a favor!" Spike snapped. "They thought you were in Hell! You _knew _that I was just a safe, normal, fairly happy human!"

"Why are you even brining this up!" Buffy was almost yelling, her expressive green eyes filled with the same wetness that was growing in Spike's. _Well whadaya know? She has allergies too._ "In probably less than an hour, you won't even remember being angry!"

"No, I bloody well won't will I!" Spike really was yelling now and there was a strange tightness in his throat and in his heart. "I won't remember why I was angry, I won't remember loving you, I won't remember Drusilla or my mum or any of the things that I loved or held dear! You know what I will remember? I'll remember not remembering. I'll have to know, for the rest of my life, that there's so much more to me then I can ever know. And I have to turn my back on knowing, for real and for good, who I am, just so I can have some peace again! This is the choice that you and Angel and the Scoobies gave me!"

Buffy had a look of true sadness on her lovely face, and Spike felt guilty for yelling at her. She shook her head and said, very calmly and slowly, "I'm sorry Spike, for what happened to you. For what we had to do to you. But this was the world on the line and we figured that you wouldn't want it to end, since you died for it."

Spike looked at the red and yellow clouds against the orange sun and at the edges of dark blue that were beginning to gather where the light wasn't so strong anymore. "You lot were right about that, luv. I wouldn'tve wanted it to end. But it's…stupid to say it, but it just isn't fair." He bowed his head and felt like a vise was tightening deep inside of him. "About you and Angel…"

Buffy was lost for words, unable to properly give voice to her thoughts, so Spike didn't force her to. He gave her a gift, the one gift he had left to give to the woman who had become his world and everything in it. He freed her from choice. "If it makes you happy, Buffy, be with him. I know that you love him, and he loves you so much it's almost sad, poor git. And pretty soon, I," he choked once, just once, "I won't be able to remember loving you. So be with Angel. Be happy."

In a way, it was his gift to Angel also. Sure, he'd been a sadistic bastard, and then a self-righteous bastard, and then a suicidal bastard. But he'd taught Spike how to survive. Kept him alive when he could have killed him. And, towards the end anyway, given the younger vampire whatever cold comfort he had left to give. Angel or Angelus or whoever the hell he was had been Spike's Sire, Spike's Yoda, and that was worth something.

They both lapsed into silence, which Buffy eventually interrupted with, "So what are you going to do now?"

Spike sighed softly and reveled in the sensation of his lungs demanding that he take another breath afterwards. "I'm gonna go sit on the roof and think until I don't remember anymore." He got up and started moving towards the building. _She's gonna say goodbye, she has to say goodbye._

"Wait!" Buffy cried, not frantic, but not exactly calm either. Spike turned around. The blonde Slayer that had become so much a part of him had tears spilling down her face and murmured, softly, sweetly, "I love you, William."

How could one moment be so wonderful and awful, so bittersweet and terrible? Spike felt his own tears flow down his face as he stared at the girl that symbolized everything he was giving up. In that moment, he wanted so much to just stay here with her on that bench, in that world. He wanted so badly to stay and not go. But he had made his choice and would stick with it, through good or through bad. He was already gone and Buffy was missing him. He was already missing his memories, even if they were still there.

"I love you Buffy." Words, so simple, so clear, words that would never pass his lips again. But it was time to let go. "I love you so much. But don't…don't try and contact me. Don't try and bring me back. If I want to come and be a part of your world, I will. But until then," and a memory of a night years ago fluttered through his head, causing Spike to smile a small, tearful smile, "let me rest in peace."

Buffy understood, just like he had known she would, and brushed a lock of soft blonde hair out of her face. "Goodbye William."

Spike wanted a goodbye kiss, knew Buffy would give it to him, but didn't trust himself. Instead, he simply raised a hand in parting. "Goodbye, Buffy."

Thankfully, he met no one else on his way to the top of the building. With each step he took, worries and doubts and memories of a little slip of a girl who smelled like vanilla and kissed like there was no tomorrow assaulted him and made him want to turn back. But he kept going. When Spike finally reached the roof of the building, he stared at the last vestiges of the sunset, which still painted the sky. Bill would see it again. But Spike never would.

This was, in the end, the chance the William the human had never gotten. The chance to live life to the fullest. Which was what he was going to do, damn it. But it was so, so hard to say goodbye. Spike put his hands in his duster pockets, stared at the sun, and felt his heart break as it had so many times before. But it didn't have the same pain that normally accompanied his loss. Just the sadness with saying goodbye. The words from a song drifted back to him, and Spike laughed to fading sun and brightening stars and the screwed up, beautiful world. "For what it's worth, it was worth all the while."

And hour and a half later, Bill was sitting his corner of the roof. He'd finally stopped crying. As the memories had finally been pushed away into the murky depths of his mind, Bill had been crying. He wasn't anymore, thankfully, and was instead studying the stars and thinking deep thoughts about everything and nothing. Somehow, it seemed so right that Angel would open the roof access door and come stand beside him.

"Bill?" the dark-haired vampire asked. Bill just nodded, not trusting himself to speak. "How was the sunset?"

"Beautiful," Bill answered simply. "I've walked through most of my life and never looked at the sunset, or sunrise, or any of the other things that I'd lose if I became a vampire again. But I guess I will, now." His accent was gone, probably never to return.

"So you don't remember being Spike?" Angel's voice was soft, kind, and Bill appreciated the effort.

"No. Once again, there's a big empty space where my memories are supposed to be. I don't much like it," Bill sighed, "but I suppose I had my reasons for choosing this."

Angel took a seat next to him and stared up at the city, the stars, anything but Bill. "So what happens to you now? Are you going to go back to your life?"

Bill laughed. "Well, I don't think I have a job anymore, and the rent on my apartment is overdue. Someone's probably called the police and reported me missing."

Angel winced. "Sorry about that."

"S'okay." Bill shrugged, but grinned a little. "If there is one thing I've figured out from all of this madness, it's this: I'm wasting my life."

Angel looked genuinely confused and asked, "Huh?"

Bill stared at the streets of Providence. "Yeah. I'm stuck at a job I hate, one that takes up all my time. I should be doing something that I like. I should see all the things I want to see, do the things I want to do, instead of just talking about them. Besides, now that I know what's out there, I can't just turn my back on it." The blonde man paused and turned to look at Angel. "What're you going to do?"

"What?"

"Yeah, I mean, are you going to stay with the Scoobies, go off on your own, or with Illyria? What happens to you, vampire guy?"

Angel stared at his hands folded in his lap. "I lived a good century wandering around on my own. It's not a good thing to do, ever. And Illyria is helpless in this world. She doesn't understand people or why they do what they do. Funny as it sounds, she needs someone to protect her. So I guess where I go, she goes to." A little, happy smile crept to Angel's face, looking out of place on the normally brooding countenance. "And Buffy and I are going to see if maybe we can be together after all." The big vampire glanced at him. "I think you had something to do with it. Thank you."

Bill smiled and shrugged again. Angel took a deep breath and continued, "But Buffy still has a lot of Slayer-related things to do, and it will take a couple months to deal with all of it. I'm not really welcome around most of the Slayers, and neither is Illyria, which gives the two of us a lot of free time before I can be with Buffy.

"Apparently, Illyria took it to heart when you told her she should get out more. She's heard about Yellowstone Park and the redwoods in California and a bunch of other natural sites and such. She'd like to go see them, and I'd like to see them again, since I'm not suicidally depressed this time around. It's a pretty country, America. A lot to see. If you wanted, you could…" Angel trailed off, not able to finish the invitation.

Bill didn't need to have it finished. He liked Angel, liked Illyria, liked the thought of being a master of his own destiny. "You sure you wouldn't mind having me along. I mean, this is going to mean restroom stops and snack breaks, and while I am a better driver than Buffy, I have this weird tendency to take out road signs."

Angel smiled again, looking genuinely happy, and said, "Bill, it's going to be me and Illyria in a car for thousands of miles. If you're not there, I shudder to think of what it would be like."

The blonde man grimaced. "Good point. When do we leave?"

"The day after tomorrow, if you wouldn't mind driving. I'm going to spend half this trip huddled under a blanket in the backseat." Angel and Bill both got up and headed towards the door.

"Aren't we going to have to see most of these places by night, you being a vampire and all? What happens if we get arrested?"

"Well, Illyria and I could probably escape from jail. You'd be doomed, though. I suppose the key is not getting arrested."

"You're kind of a bad influence."

"It's been said."

End


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